Blessed
by The Bates Shipping Co
Summary: Set in 1956. Father John Bates is at a turning point in his life when he's offered a chance at a new beginning...but life sometimes has different plans.
1. Prologue

_**A/N:** New fic written by TerrieJane and Handy-For-The-Bus coming pretty soon! We decided to post the prologue because we really couldn't wait for it :D _

_Hope you all enjoy this story. Let us know what you think in the reviews!_

 _ **Disclaimer:** Downton Abbey and its characters belong to Julian Fellowes. _

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**\- Prologue -**

'We all have doubts at some point, John. It's part of being human.' The older man spoke, handing him a glass of whiskey, which he refused.

'I know,' John sighed, unsure of what to think. These doubts they talked about, seemed to have always existed in the back of his mind, deep in his heart; a constant ache that kept him awake many a night, and in distress most of his days. Was he the kind of person who would never know satisfaction?

'Why don't you accept my offer?' His friend asked with a playful grin, knowing that was exactly the reason for this visit.

'That's why I'm here actually, I think...I believe you're right.'

'Wonderful news, my friend! I'm so glad, especially because I've been pressured to find a suitable man for the position as soon as possible. The new school year begins in two months.'

'I'm sorry it took me so long to decide…'

'Don't you worry about it,' The older man shook his head, taking the last sip of his drink. 'What matters is that you did decide and you are giving yourself another chance. Listen, a new place, a new job, new responsibilities, tasks, sometimes that's all we need to change our life.'

'I do hope so,' John nodded.

'You'll see, John, I'm sure you won't regret it. You'll be thanking me soon enough. And those children... they are a blessing. They will fill your life with what you need. Sometimes we need to be faced with the outcast, to give ourselves to them, to feel like we have a purpose in life.'

'That's exactly why I accepted your offer, Terrence. I feel like I need more to be happy.'

'And to forget about your doubts for good.' His friend winked at him.

'Yes. I'm sure I will. I'm sure I'll be too busy for that.'

'It'll change your life, John. It'll change you forever. Now, let's hide this…' Terrence said, returning the bottle of whiskey to a secret drawer in his desk. '...before Sister Clarence comes in here and finds it. She gives me the looks every time she sees me drinking.'

'Sister Clarence, oh yes,' John chuckled, knowing exactly whom his friend was talking about.

'If she had her way I would only drink at communion and that would be it. But a man needs more in life, you know, even a Bishop, or the Pope, for that matter. We are human after all, don't you ever forget that, John. Ever. We were born from our parents, we shed tears, we bleed, we were young and adventurous once, well… you still are, much younger than I am.' Terrence laughed loudly, 'But you know what I mean. Just feel blessed you found your way to God and rejoice in it.'

John nodded, managing a small smile at his old friend. His life was indeed about to change. To direct an orphanage in Whitby, bordered by green pastures with sheep to the West, and the sea to the East. To have a hand in guiding orphaned children. Yes, that's what he needed. To think less. To do more. To feel needed in what he did. To feel that all the options he made in his life had been right, even though they never felt right enough.

But would he ever feel blessed? He surely hoped so.

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 _TBC_

 _ **Thank you for reading :)**_


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** Here we are with the first chapter of Blessed! We can't tell you how excited we are to start posting this fic. Brewing ideas and writing new characters is so much fun and we hope you enjoy this ride with us :D _

**_Disclaimer:_**

 ** _-_** _Downton Abbey's characters belong to Julian Fellowes._

 **-** _We hope not to offend anyone's religious beliefs with this story, and make it as real as possible for everyone's perspective, as our own._

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 **Blessed ~** Chapter 1

 **x**

 _Good shepherds don't sit around stagnating in their personal walks with God._

 _They grow continuously, and growth requires change._

 **x**

 _June 23, 1956, 9:25 am_

'And he'll be here promptly at ten she said, and she wants us all out in front to greet him.'

Anna and Jane, two teachers at The Blessed Virgin Orphanage, were in the back garden picking flowers for the chapel, tomorrow being Sunday.

'Oh, Jane, I wonder what he's like? I'm a little nervous to meet him, aren't you?' Anna remarked, swatting a bee away from her bouquet of daisies and sweet smelling honeysuckle.

Jane was having her own battle with the bees. 'Come on; this is enough. These bees are fierce today,' she huffed, waving her flowers in the air. 'And he can't be any worse than old Fr. Benedict, can he?'

'Hm, that's true enough,' agreed Anna. 'The children were happy to see him go.'

'No more than I was, and you too, I reckon. The old letch.'

Anna only rolled her eyes at that. 'Mad Madeleine, will be the only one to miss him. They always had their heads together plotting something. Oh!' Anna cried, throwing her hand up to her mouth. 'Did I just call her Mad...?'

'Why, yes you did!' laughed her friend. 'You're as bad as the children, but personally, I think even that name is too good for her.'

'She is a sour pickle, for sure, isn't she, and she has Sr Mary Josephine terrorised most of the time. I found her crying in the linen closet just last week. The dear,' Anna sighed.

'She shows her weakness to Mad Madeleine and then, of course, she pounces on her, the wicked thing,' grumbled Jane.

Anna plucked a dead petal off a daisy in her bouquet, 'I'll always think of Sr Mary Josephine when I see daisies now,' Anna confessed.

'Whyever?' questioned Jane.

'Because that's her name, her true name, she told me, and I suppose she misses it a bit. Poor little thing. She looks like a Daisy, doesn't she?'

'Mmm, but she's going to have to toughen up if she plans on staying around here because Sr Mary Madeleine isn't going anywhere soon,' said Jane.

'Maybe the new director will give Sister the old heave-ho, we can hope.' Anna giggled at the thought.

'And maybe the new director will be younger than seventy-five, six foot two, broad-shouldered, with a headful of chestnut curls. Not likely,' Jane huffed as they made their way to the kitchen door.

At just that moment it flew wide open, followed by Sr Mary Josephine waving her arms and calling, 'He's here. He's here! She's seen a car coming up the drive. She's none too happy about it either. She says he's too early, and that's not a good way to start off. Hurry, let's not make her madder than she already is!' And with that, the little nun ran back inside.

Anna and Jane both looked at each other and said the same thing, 'The poor man.'

 **xxx**

Brenda, a sixteen-year-old, long-time resident of The Blessed Virgin Orphanage, sat back on her haunches and wiped the sweat from her brow. 'This really stinks,' she complained. 'Why do we have to be out here on the hottest morning of the year plucking weeds from the flower beds?'

'Yeah,' groused blond, ponytailed Cynthia, flopping back on the lawn, arms outstretched in the grass. 'If I didn't think the old crone was watching from her window, I'd just lay here and work on my suntan.'

'But she is watching. She's always watching. It's too creepy how she knows everything,' whined Judith, a born worrier at the ripe old age of fourteen. 'It's almost supernatural. Don't ever look her in the eye,' she warned the others.

'We're out here slaving away because she wants to impress the new priest when he arrives this morning. Listen to this! I heard a couple of the teachers saying old Mad Madeline wanted to be named Director herself. She's probably pissed as Hell she lost out,' Karen whispered to her friends. 'I wonder how things will change now?'

'Shhh, Karen! Watch your mouth or you'll be eating soap. Someone will hear the things you say, someday,' Judith warned her.

'Oh, you worry too much, Jude. You let her get to you. You can give her that power, but I sure won't. She's not supernatural; she's just a mean, old witch who hates her life. And she'll only be getting meaner when the new priest arrives.'

'I wonder what he'll be like?' Pamela thought aloud.

'I can take a guess,' said Brenda. 'He'll be ancient, fat and farty, and possibly even worse than old Fr Benedict was. And before the day is out they'll have their heads together, plotting how to make our lives miserable and theirs better.'

Cynthia groaned and hefted herself up off the ground. 'We'll know soon enough. Look. Here he comes.'

The girls all rose and turned out of curiosity to look down the drive. A black taxi was making its way towards them. They could see the man through the open back window as he gave them a slow smile and held his hand up in a priestly greeting. 'Ladies…' he said as he passed.

They waved back, and once he was out of view, Cynthia put her hand to her forehead and swooned to the ground, the others collapsing on top of her in a pile of giggles, until Brenda cried, 'Wait, we have to tell the boys!' With that, they all took off running across the lawn to the side entrance of the building and up the stairs, weeds now forgotten.

 **xxx**

'Nice girls,' John thought to himself as he waved to them, a smile forming on his lips.

It was unusually warm that morning, no wind or breeze; it reminded him of France all those years ago. Piercing heat in the midst of chaos and death, but here the birds sang, and the trees were ever so green, and he could swear that in the distance he heard the sea hitting the shore. He shook his head, shooing the dark thoughts away. The last thing he needed now was to overthink or remember, but he did it none-the-less, especially when anticipation made him nervous. An orphanage. Children. Teenagers like the ones he has just seen. Something he had never done before...did he have the skills to manage it all? To guide these young lives? His friend the Bishop seemed to think he did.

John found himself staring at the imposing building from inside the cab. It looked nice, actually, much better than it did from the picture he had seen; surrounded by trimmed lawns and bushes and colourful flowers.

'Here we are, Father. The Blessed Virgin Orphanage,' the cab driver spoke, looking over his shoulder.

'Thank you,' John replied, paying him for the ride. 'Keep the change.'

'Thank you, Father. Do you need help with the -.'

'I can manage,' John smiled, picking up his cane and his satchel and opening the door. 'Good day to you.'

He slowly stepped out of the car, taking the time he needed to undo that knot he felt in his throat. Once he was out, it would all begin...but for some reason, his doubts were stronger than ever before. He only hoped his friend had been right in offering him this position, for there was nothing else left in him.

Here we go, he thought to himself.

As soon as he began to walk up the graveled path that led to the entrance, he saw a woman approaching him at a fast pace. A nun, much older than he was, mid-seventies maybe, with a fierce look on her face, and cold blue eyes. She wasn't happy, he could see that, and when she spoke the sound of her voice was almost ominous.

'Father John! You are early!' Her was speech was raspy, and he felt as if he was being scolded.

'Good morning... Sister Mary Madeline, I presume?' John smiled, trying to begin this encounter in the best way possible.

'Yes, Sister Madeline. You're early!' she insisted.

'Sister Madeline…' John nodded. 'Not too early, am I?' He looked down at his watch, pushing back the sleeve of his jacket. Nine thirty. 'Half an hour…'

'Early enough for us not to be prepared.'

He faced her for a moment, the awkwardness building and making his ears turn hot. As for the old woman, her eyes were on him, sure and judgmental, scrutinizing him from head to toe; taking an inordinate amount of time over his cane. John began to feel as if he was standing naked before her. He spoke, trying to lift the heavy mood felt between the two, but he understood then that this woman was not someone who had good days in her life. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-.'

'Nevermind that,' she replied rather annoyed, looking back at the entrance door to see a group of women hurrying out. 'You're here now, just...just wait for them to line up.' She held her hand up to John, seemingly to keep him in place.

John looked up in surprise, watching as the women began to position themselves before him. 'There's no need to -.'

'Please. We are ruled by tradition and manners, Father. And I'm in charge of making sure those foundations are followed,' Sister Madeline insisted.

'I see. All right,' John nodded, waiting as the women lined up by ranking and task, trying to absent himself from this ludicrous scene. He looked down at the gravel to suppress a grin, his cane in one hand, the satchel in the other. He felt the urge to cleared his throat. As the sun burned through his jacket, and he began to sweat.

First, he heard their voices, soft, followed by a giggle and when he looked up, he saw directly before him what he presumed was one of the teachers. A young woman with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and fair skin. Her sleeveless summer dress was full-skirted, white and embellished with tiny pink flowers. When she smiled at him, he couldn't help doing the same, and at that moment, they spoke to each other through that short, telling glance.

Isn't this whole scene the most ridiculous thing? Those unspoken words earned them both a chuckle. A chuckle that didn't impress Sister Madeline.

'Well,' the old nun finally spoke when the line was formed, a serious, morose expression never leaving her face. Her hands were folded at stomach level, and her thumbs circled each other in an endless motion. She was impatient to get on with this, he could tell. 'These are our teachers. Miss Trevor, Miss Gary, Miss Moorsum... and Miss Smith.'

'Pleasure,' John said, smiling at the four secular women. His eyes although, were quick to find Miss Smith's again.

Jane elbowed Anna discreetly, and she immediately looked over at her friend, remembering her comment, 'And maybe the new director will be younger than seventy-five, six foot two, broad-shouldered…' The two friends shared a complicit look. Jane couldn't have been more pleased with her prediction.

'And here are the Sisters who…' Sister Madeline continued, but for John, her voice went mute. There was something in Miss Smith's eyes that made him unable to look away. The way she smiled at him, her welcoming presence... '...And Sister Josephine, she's been with us only for a couple of months. She's just learning - Father?'

'Yes?' John faced the old woman then, realising that he had been oblivious to her words.

'Did you hear what I said?' She practically barked at him, causing Anna and Jane to avert their eyes and stifle their snickers.

It took him a moment to reply. 'Of course. Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you all.'

Everyone smiled at him. Sister Madeline wasn't convinced, but she would let it pass this time.

'I'll guide you to your office now, and your room,' she said. 'You ought to get settled before meeting the children. That you can do tomorrow.'

'Very well,' John answered before following her into the building. His day had just begun. Inside, he would find a different world than he had expected.

'Oh goodness! Isn't he handsome? He doesn't have curly hair but who cares?' Jane sighed, bringing a hand to her face, fanning herself. She and Anna had remained behind.

'Jane, please, he's a priest, stop it,' Anna advised, but she couldn't disguise the amused look on her face. He was indeed handsome, and his smile had been so friendly, his eyes so gentle.

'I know he's a priest! But it's nice to look at something...nice, for a change. Looking doesn't hurt anything, and I saw the way you looked at him. Don't you deny it!'

'I won't deny it. He seems very friendly and humble. I liked that. It will be so much better than Fr Benedict.'

'Indeed! Well, I have things to do…' Jane spoke, walking back into the orphanage. 'Don't stay here too long daydreaming.'

Anna smiled at her friend, a smile that soon vanished from her lips. She sat on the step outside the front door, enjoying the sun on her face, warming her soul as nothing else could of late.

 **xxx**

'Did you hear what they were saying?' Brenda asked, trying to squeeze between the teenage boys looking out of the window. She was dying with curiosity, as were her friends.

They were in the older boys room, the one bedroom that faced the front of the orphanage. From there they had been able to watch the whole scene unfolding below.

'I would have if you had been quiet!' Philip replied looking at her in annoyance. 'They went inside.' The dark haired boy returned to his chair at the desk, where he had been working a special Summer science project.

'He looks younger than Fr Benedict.' Louis pulled Cynthia's ponytail, before throwing himself on his bed.

'Stop it, Louis!' The girl massaged her sore scalp. 'Of course he's younger than Fr Benedict, are you blind?! He's like, a thousand years younger!'

'But he's got a cane,' Louis pointed out.

'Figures, doesn't it? When we finally get rid of Old Father Fart, here comes a lame one to fill his place.' James grimaced in disappointment, closing the window and turning to face his friends, but not before running a hand through his silky, auburn hair, something he would do every other second when there were girls near by.

'Father Long John Silver, that's what he is!' Philip added.

'He doesn't look like a pirate, though,' Judith replied, always taking everything literally.

'At least, we'll always hear him coming, and we can run before he catches us.' James laughed, as he grabbed a cricket bat for a cane, hunching his way across the room with it, a goofy look on his face.

'You are so immature,' Karen shook her head, unimpressed.

'I don't know...he seems nice, the new Father. He waved and smiled at us; Fr Benedict never did that,' Brenda remarked, 'I don't think he even knew our names.'

'He looks like one of those magazine models Miss Moorsum hides in her desk!' Pamela giggled bringing her hands to cover her mouth, a slight blush colouring her cheeks.

'That he does,' Karen nodded in agreement.

'Well, I'm willing to give him a chance, not that we have a choice. At least, he'll be a change from old Benedict and as Miss Smith says, change is usually good if we give it a chance to be,' Louis concluded. 'I reckon she's right. She always is.'

Everyone agreed with him. Miss Smith was known for being wise and good, she was kind to everyone and a strong believer in second chances. There wasn't a single soul in the orphanage who didn't like her, well...maybe Sister Madeline didn't but then, she didn't like anyone, not even herself.

'Now, let's go! If Mad Madeline finds us here, we'll be in big trouble.' Pamela hurried her friends out of the boys room as quick as could be. Being found there would grant them an epic punishment, that's for sure.

 **xxx**

'The dining hall is down there,' Sister Madeline pointed toward the end of the long hallway. 'We all eat there, but if you want, you can have your meals brought to your office. Fr Benedict preferred it so.'

'I would like to eat with everyone else,' John replied with a smile, but nothing he did would soften the old woman.

'Very well,' she nodded. 'The chapel is to the right. I'm sure you know the schedule for mass already.'

'I do, of course.'

'Good, and then there's the library which also serves as our music room.'

'Music room?' John peeked inside, curious.

'It's only a piano and a phonograph,' Sister Madeline replied.

'It's better than nothing.'

'Now, on the first floor, are our quarters, and the classrooms and the children sleep on the second floor.'

'This is much bigger than I thought it would be,' John stated, leaning against the banister and looking up at the stairs. 'In much better condition too. It's a lovely place. How many children are here?'

'Fifty-three at the present. Now, where would you like to start?' Sister Madeline asked with a sigh, hoping this would be over soon.

'My room, if that's possible? So I can rest my satchel.'

'Very well, follow me…' she ordered, walking up the stairs ahead of him. 'Are you sure these stairs won't bother you?'

'They won't,' John answered back at once. 'I can manage.'

'If you say so.'

He felt a sarcastic smile creeping onto her features but didn't say anything. He was here to work and to put his mind and his thoughts in place, to shake away his doubts. He had no desire to make enemies. At least, he had one possible friend or hoped so; that Miss Smith he had met just minutes ago, with the gentle smile and bright eyes. He liked her already.

'These are the women's quarters, both the teachers and Sisters,' Sister Madeline continued as they walked along the upstairs hall.

'Oh! The teachers live here? I didn't know that.'

'We like to keep them with us,' she replied.

'I see…'

'Here, to your left is your room. Sisters Mary Josephine and Mary Rose made sure it was impeccable for you.'

'Oh, that's very nice,' John smiled appreciatively, following the old nun inside the room, but once he was able to take it all in he didn't know what to think. 'Well, this...this is something else, isn't it?'

Something else, for sure. Something worthy of a king, more like. There was an impressive four-poster bed in the middle of the room, heavy and ornate, with a velvet quilt and side curtains. Thick carpets on the floor, expensive ones, he could tell; oil paintings on the wall and dark curtains covering floor to ceiling windows. There was also a large desk in one corner and a bookshelf, and more closet space than he would ever need in a lifetime, also a door to what he presumed to be a private bathroom.

'Yes. Fr Benedict was a man with good taste and high standards. He'll be missed.'

'I'm sure he will. But, I think, I think it's a bit too big for me, though.' John spoke carefully, trying not to say anything offensive, but the room was making him feel anxious. All this luxury was too much for a simple man like him. He could never feel comfortable here.

'What do you mean?' Sister Madeline questioned, creasing her brow at him.

'A bit too...luxurious...for my liking. I'm not used to this much.'

'Well, you better get used to it,' she insisted, looking at him as if he was the strangest person she had ever seen. 'You're the director of this orphanage now. You have standards to uphold.'

'Exactly,' John sighed, tired of trying all he could to reach this unreachable woman. 'The director of the orphanage, not the Pope. Show me my office now, please. I want to unpack as soon as possible.'

His answer took the old woman by surprise, but nothing seemed to shake her from her pedestal. 'Very well, follow me. Your office is right at the end of the classrooms hall, so you can keep an eye on what's going on in every class if you wish, although Fr Benedict entrusted that duty to me. Children made him nervous.'

'I'll be wanting to take an active interest in the children. They are what we're here for, after all. The well being of the children must be our priority, Sister,' he told her as they walked into his office. He was not surprised to find the same style of furnishing. Velvet curtains, expensive Persian carpets, and a massive carved wooden desk. There was a door on the East wall that he found led to a tiny shower, water closet and sink.

'This is where we keep the files.' She pointed to one large cabinet. 'Every record of every child since this Orphanage opened is stored there. These over here belong to the staff. Nuns, teachers, caretakers, farmers.'

'Good, good,' John nodded, paying attention to everything she was saying. 'Did you say farmers?'

'Yes, the orphanage has its own farm. I'll continue if I may? We teach organisation above all things, and we expect everyone who works here to be tidy and well organised.'

'I thought you taught tradition and manners above all things.' He turned to face her with a playful grin on his lips. He should have known better than to say or do such thing.

'Organisation, tradition, manners, discipline, all equally important to the running of this institution,' she told him with an unpleasant grin of her own.

John didn't comment further. He knew it would only lead to bickering, and he genuinely wanted to be at peace with everyone here. Maybe over time she would become more friendly, maybe this was just her way of imposing her presence here. After all, she was used to Fr Benedict. This was as new to her, and it was to him.

'What's this?' he asked, pointing to a small door at the back of the office. 'Another room?'

'That's a storage room. Fr Benedict used it to keep all the records there before we moved them out. It was hard to find anything in that dark little room.'

'This is perfect!' John exclaimed, on opening the door and looking inside.

'For what?' she asked.

'My room. I'm sure you have a twin bed you can spare, don't you? It would fit perfectly here.'

'It's a storage room, Father; it doesn't even have a window,' she said, incredulous at his idea.

'Oh, that's fine, a lamp will do; I'll feel better sleeping here than in that opulent room upstairs.' He smiled, walking into the small space. 'Oh, yes. I shall be comfortable here.'

'Father, you-.'

'It's settled, Sister.' He came out to face her. 'This will be my room, and it's right in the office. It's handy. Can you find someone to help me move a bed here? And maybe a small cupboard for my clothes?'

'Yes, yes, I can...I'll take care of that.'

John thanked her, and she left the room, trying to understand what had just happened. Had they sent a mad man to direct this place? Was she expected to put up with this sort of behaviour? Sleeping in a storage room, of all things. Who did he think he was? Oh, she didn't like this. She didn't like this one bit.

'What do you think, Sister?' One of the nuns stopped her in the hall, filled with curiosity.

'Well,' the old woman looked at her with a worried expression causing the smile on Sister Mary Anne's lips withered away. 'I can't see that lasting long.'

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 _ **Next time:**_ _John meets the children and settles into his new life._

 **x**

 _We hope you enjoy this new story by Handy-for-the-bus & Terriejane. Please review, let us know what you think! It makes our day :) Thank you for reading._


	3. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Good evening everyone! We want to thank you all __for your support with this new fic. It means so much to us! Have a nice weekend and a good reading. And don't forget to let us know what you think ;) Thank you!_

 _ **Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1. _

* * *

**Blessed ~** Chapter 2

 **x**

 _The best way to find yourself_

 _Is to lose yourself_

 _In the service of others,_

 _~ Mahatma Gandhi_

 **x**

 _The first day._

It appeared John had been left on his own. He had seen no one since a sister, whose name he didn't recall, had brought him his tea around mid-afternoon, and although it seemed they weren't ready to let him starve, he decided that, as soon as the dinner bell rang he would make his way to the dining hall

At the moment, after removing his jacket and making himself comfortable, he was looking out of one of the two large windows, standing with his legs slightly apart, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, just taking in the beautiful view. Terence had shown him the black and white snapshots, but nothing could compare to this. The Blessed Virgin Orphanage seemed to be a lovely place, a place that should be an example for all Church establishments, although John was sure, not many of them were run as well. This was to Fr Benedict's, and in no small part, he suspected Sr Mary Madeleine's credit. What he didn't know yet was that most of this splendour was just a facade. Within these walls, there were things that needed to be changed and dramatically changed.

 _Ah, Sr Madeleine_. Their first meeting had not gone as he had hoped, but they would iron things out, he was sure. She was probably just feeling her role here was being threatened. And why wouldn't she? That was natural. Yes, things would come right in the end, after all, they both wanted what was best for the children.

'Watch out for that vase…' A loud voice from outside the door broke his reverie. John went to investigate.

'Goddammit, Alf! I told you to be careful!'

A middle-aged man, dressed in cover-alls was scolding his younger helper, who was gyrating wildly to catch a vase spinning through the air. A second later, it crashed to the tiled floor.

'Holy Mother of God! She's not going to be happy about this. Alf, you clumsy son of a... '

The older man stopped his tirade when he saw John standing in the doorway. 'Oh shit...I mean, sorry Father...it's just this lad tries my last nerve some days.' At that, he wiped off his hand on his front and held it out in greeting. 'Isaiah Rivers, caretaker, at your service.'

John shook the caretaker's hand. 'Fr John Bates. Very pleased to meet you, Isaiah, if I may call you that.'

'Of course, you can, Father. Sister Madeleine said you wanted a bed to put in the storage room. Was I hearing her right? You're going to be sleeping in a storage room when you have that fancy bedroom upstairs?'

'Yes. I'm a humble man of God, Isaiah. I would never rest easy in that room, and I have everything I require right here, or I will have as soon as we get this bed set up.' John stepped aside to let the men enter.

Isaiah, cocked his head, eyeing John up and down, taking in his cane as he did so. 'Well, you sure got her riled up, right enough. Good! Maybe she won't notice that vase Alf broke. That's Alf, by the way,' he said, nodding in the direction of the hapless lad.

'Afternoon, Father. Sorry about the vase. These things happen to me all the time,' the young man said.

'You got that right,' Isaiah muttered under his breath.

'Not to worry, son. If we get it cleaned up quick, maybe she won't even notice,' John encouraged, resting a hand on Alf's skinny shoulder. 'She won't hear it from me,' he said with a conspiratorial wink.

It was then that Mr Rivers and Alf both decided this new Father was a good egg.

 **xxx**

'Molly says the baby goats are just the right age for petting now,' Anna mentioned as they reached the rise in the lane, 'I might take the little ones up to the farm tomorrow afternoon or maybe Monday if the weather holds.'

'I'd go with you, but I promised Mum I'd visit my Aunt Rita with her for two days. Believe me; I'd rather be petting stinky goats,' grumped Jane.

'Goats don't stink! They're adorable,' defended Anna.

'They smell better than Aunt Rita; I'll give you that,' quipped Jane.

Anna linked her arm with her friend's, 'Aw, my poor Janie. I'm sure you'll survive. How bad can Aunt Rita be?'

'You don't want to know. Trust me on this.'

Anna and Jane had decided to take a walk after tea, as the day was beautiful and sometimes they just needed to get away from the watchful eye of Sister Mary Madeleine. For the most part, she was tolerable, but since Fr Benedict had left she had been in a terribly foul mood, sniping at anyone who so much as looked her way, so most people avoided her like the plague.

They continued walking arm in arm in silence for a time, and soon they were approaching The Blessed Virgin. As they neared the front of the building, they could see Father John standing at his office window. He smiled and waved at them.

'Do you suppose she has him locked in the room?' Jane joked, and she and Anna both waved back to him.

'Oh Jane, I wouldn't put it past her,' Anna sighed, 'But maybe we should have invited him to join us on our walk. He seems so nice, and I do want him to be happy here. Does that sound silly?'

Jane considered what Anna said, 'No, not at all. I want him to be happy here too.'

 **xxx**

John rubbed his hands together, feeling quite accomplished. After setting up the bed, Isaiah and Alf returned with his wardrobe. It was small, but he didn't have many personal belongings. There were already several decent sized hooks sticking out from the wall at the end of the room: these would serve well to hang his two suits and pressed dress shirts on. Everything else could be folded and put in drawers, and his vestments would be stored in a small room behind the chapel. Mr Rivers had even found him a kneeler. He would hang a cross above it and put it to good use after dinner when he returned to his room.

'Father? You still around?' Alf called from the door of the office.

'Yes, son. I'm back here. You can come in.'

'Here,' Alf said, holding out a small toolbox. 'Mr Rivers told me you might need this, in case you had any pictures 'n such to hang.

"I don't, not of my own, but I wonder if Sister would object to me moving that copy of the painting, _The Tears of Saint Peter_ , by El Greco from the office to in here? It speaks to me. I believe I'd like it hanging over my bed. What do you think, Alf?'

Alf just stammered an answer, surprised this new Father was even asking his opinion. No one had ever done that before.

'Well,' John smiled, sensing the young man's uneasiness. 'Let's take the risk, shall we? It's quite large. Could you help me get it down and rehung, son?'

Alf hesitated and took a step back, 'Uh...Father, that might not be such a good idea. Maybe you should wait for Mr Rivers to help. You've seen how I…'

'Oh, you'll do fine. Let's go get it.'

A few minutes later, John was standing back admiring the beautiful, but heartbreaking painting. 'That's perfect! What do you think, Alf?'

'Uh, I think I couldn't sleep with that over my bed. He looks so sad.'

'And do you know why he's sad?'

Alf shook his head, 'No.'

John stared at the painting for a long time, his hands folded in front of him. 'You see how Saint Peter's eyes glisten with tears? That's because he has denied Our Lord. He's deeply sorrowful and grieving for his sin, and he lifts his eyes to heaven, seeking forgiveness.'

'That's heavy, Father.'

John lowered his head and turned from Alf then, 'Yes,' he said slowly, '...yes, it is.'

 **xxx**

Half five. That was enough time for a shower before dinner; John thought as he stepped into the tiny bathroom and pulled aside the shower curtain. He stood there contemplating the minuscule shower, and he groaned. There was no way. How had the famously fat Fr Benedict fit in here? Well, he hadn't, John decided, not in recent years anyway. He had used his elegant en suite with a tub probably the size of a small swimming pool.

He turned sideways and sucked in his belly to enter, but once through the opening, there was more room than he thought there would be. He might be hard-pressed to get his hands above his head, but it was doable. Still, John didn't relish getting stuck and having to be extracted from his shower on the first night. Sister Madeleine would think he was getting his just desserts, and no doubt he was when he had a perfectly good bathroom upstairs. No shower before dinner, just a wash-up and a shave, and maybe a clean shirt and collar.

 **xxx**

John spent the next twenty minutes exploring the drawers of his huge desk. He determined, with a chuckle, if ever his bed wasn't big enough he could pile blankets on the desktop and be quite comfortable. Then he moved on to a large, ornate floor to ceiling cabinet. He stood before it with his hands on his hips, looking up and shaking his head.

 _Such a waste_ , he thought. _No man is worthy of all these...material things._

John opened it's sturdy center doors by turning a key in the lock, to be greeted with a fully stocked bar and fine crystal glasses of every shape and size. He was at a loss. There had to be more to the story behind of Fr Benedict's retirement; he was sure of that. Why would a man leave even his liquor behind? And his books? Some rare and old. Well, Terence would benefit from this particular stash. John simply wanted it out of here. He turned the key, relocking the cabinet. Now what to do with it? The empty safe was standing open. He placed the key inside and shut the door, hoping Sister Madeleine had the combination.

He still had half an hour before the dinner bell, so he opened a random drawer of the file cabinet, the 'K' drawer, and grabbing a handful of file folders, he sat down at his desk.

 **xxx**

Sister Mary Madeleine caught up with Sister Mary Louise as she was about to ring the dinner bell.

'Wait! Before you do that, make up a tray for Father. I don't want him coming to the dining hall tonight.'

'Why not? You're not going to make him dine alone, are you?' asked Sr Louise.

'Yes, I am. One night won't kill him. I don't want him meeting any of the children until they're presented to him at Mass tomorrow. He should meet them when they're at their best, not when they're shoveling food in their faces.'

'But he's been shut in his office practically since he got here,' Sr Louise tried to object.

'He's been settling into that God-forsaken broom closet he's chosen to sleep in. He's probably enjoyed the solitude I've allowed him. Now go. Do what I ask before he comes looking for his dinner, and don't question me.' Sister shooed her on her way.

Sr Louise didn't like it, but she had no choice but to oblige.

 **xxx**

John leaned back in his chair with a sigh, removing his readers and pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd been studying the sad file of nine-year-old Jeremy Kent. Jeremy's future seemed as bleak as his past.

When the boy was barely five, his father had shot his mother and then turned the gun on himself. After spending a year in another orphanage, he was sent to The Blessed Virgin. John had read some of the teachers and sisters notes:

 _Little Jeremy has just arrived. He'll not be an easy case. He's retreated and grown a hard shell, but with time and plenty of love, I believe we'll be able to help him. - Anna Smith, teacher - April 1953_

And another from just last year:

 _Incorrigible, he feels everyone is his enemy, strikes out at others, resistant to corporal punishment. And he refuses to comb his hair. I recommend he be transferred to a different institution. - Sr Mary Madeleine - December 1955_

This would require some looking into, John thought, deciding he needed to talk to Miss Smith about the boy, just to see how she felt about the situation three years on.

'Father,' a soft voice called through the door. 'Sister Madeleine has sent me with your dinner tray, Father.'

John threw his head back with a groan. _No, this would not do_. He made his way to the door and opened it to see a friendly looking nun with a fully-loaded tray held out to him. 'Sister, uh…'

'Mary Louise, Father.'

'Of course. I apologise, I'm horrible with names,' he smiled, resisting the urge to say that all nuns looked the same to him. 'This really wasn't necessary. I told Sister Madeleine I'd be eating with everyone in the dining hall.'

'I know, Father, and I'm sorry, but she insisted. She doesn't want you to meet any of the children until they can be properly introduced tomorrow after Mass. And when Sister insists, well…' Sr Louise look up at him, hoping he would understand, even when she, herself didn't see the sense in it.

'She has something special planned, doesn't she?' John asked, cringing inwardly.

Sr Louise nodded and shrugged her shoulders.

'Well, that's fine. Yes, that will be nice,' he said with a kind smile as he took the tray from her. It was heavy with good food, as was his tea tray earlier. 'I can see no one is trying to starve me. Thank you, Sr Louise, for your trouble.'

The Sister nodded and turned to leave when John called out, 'From here on out I'll be eating all of my meals in the dining hall. Will that be a problem?'

'No, Father. That would be very nice, indeed. Have a pleasant evening, Father,' and with that, she left.

John set his tray on the desk, closed the Kent file, said his prayers and ate.

 **xxx**

 _The next morning._

It was a small chapel and tightly packed with fifty some children, the five nuns and three of the four teachers. Isaiah Rivers and his helper, Alf and a couple of others he hadn't met yet.

Father John had just said his first Mass at The Blessed Virgin and had resumed his place in the Presider's Chair facing his congregation.

The Sister gave the children their cue, and they all stood from their seats of first four pews. In turn, they introduced themselves to their new Father and under the direction of Sister Mary Madeleine, sang their well-practiced song, _Jesus, Our Redeemer._

When they had finished, John rose from his chair and walked down the two steps, into the nave to stand before the children. He blessed each and every child, then stepped back, motioning them to take their seats, but rather than returning to the Sanctuary, he chose to sit himself down on the steps leading to it. This caused Sister Madeleine to sit straighter in the pew. _What on earth was he doing now?_

John took his time allowing his eyes to take in everyone. He nodded to Sister Louise and at the handyman and his apprentice, way in the back. He smiled when his eyes met Miss Smith. She lowered her gaze, but he could tell she was smiling too. From his left, John heard Sister Madeleine clear her throat, impatient to get on with it. She would have to wait. He would only meet his new flock for the first time once. He would not be rushed.

He grinned at the rows of children and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. 'Well, now that we've been introduced, and entertained, are there any questions you would like to ask me? Anything at all? Ah, you son, and please tell me what your name is again.'

John nodded to a young boy in the second row waving his hand unrestrainedly in the air. He appeared to be around eleven or twelve.

'I'm Kevin. Where did you get that stick?'

'Oh, this?' Father John wrapped his hand around the dark wooden crook of the cane and positioned it between his legs. 'Well, I was wounded in the war.'

'You were in the war, sir?'

'You may call me Father, Kevin. Father John,' he said softly. 'I was, yes. I was a Chaplain in the war.'

'Did you meet Hitler?'

'Did you kill Hitler?' Another boy, Robbie asked, excitedly.

'Don't be silly, Rob. Hitler killed himself; everyone knows that.' Mike, a lad with coal black hair and eyes, elbowed Robbie in the ribs.

'That's what they want us to believe. I ain't buying it. I bet he was killed by a brave British soldier! I know I would kill him, with my bare hands, I would.'

John held up his hand to stop this, 'All right, no, I didn't meet Hitler, and I certainly didn't kill him. I'm sure you've all covered WW2 in your history lessons, but maybe we could form a study group for any of you who want to learn more if you're interested' This idea set well with the older boys.

'Now, are there any more questions, other than the war and why I have a stick? Oh, you there, with the pretty red hair. I'm sorry I don't know your names yet, but I'll work hard on learning them, I promise. What's your question?

The girl, who looked to be eight years old, was seated at the end of the fourth pew next to Anna, who had encouraged her to stand. She was being shy, and when she looked back, Anna nodded her head, encouraging her to speak.

'Alice, Father John. M...my question is; do you have a girlfriend?'

Nervous giggles erupted from the congregation.

'Good Lord! Are you daft, child? That's not something to ask a priest!.' Sister Madeleine stood from her seat and was intent on heading back to little Alice and ushering her out.

John chuckled motioning Sister to sit, which she did reluctantly. He noticed Anna had her hand to her mouth, in an effort to stifle her own laugh. 'It's all right, Sister Madeleine, she didn -'

'It most certainly is not all right at all! You will be staying in today, Alice.'

'But Alice only arrived with us last week. She doesn't understand the church yet, Sister Madeleine.' Anna put her arm around the horribly embarrassed little girl, comforting her. 'Darling, priests don't have girlfriends, they can't.'

'Why?'

Anna turned to look at Father, to see if he was going to help her out on this. It didn't appear he was. 'Well, um...you see, just like teachers take a vow to teach children, priest's vow not to have girlfriends or to get married so their private life won't interfere with their um...Godly life. Priests are married to the church and the well-being of their congregation. Do you understand?'

'No. Yes…I guess.'

'That's my good girl, we'll talk more about it if you want too,' Anna said softly, glancing up at John. He was looking at her intently and nodded as if to say, _Nicely done._

'Well,' John slapped his knees and pushed himself up off the steps. 'It's a beautiful day God has blessed us with. And I want every one of you out there enjoying it.' He made a point of looking at little Alice and winking. 'Now let me say the final benediction and you can go drink in that sunshine.'

 **xxx**

'I'm thinking of signing up for that study group on the WW2, if it happens,' Pamela made this remark as she and her girlfriends lolled on the grass under the shade of a large Beech tree. The weather was glorious, the sun warm and gentle, and a soothing breeze blew with the scent of lilacs and honeysuckle.

'Why on earth? You don't even like history.' Judith stared at her with a confused frown. 'In fact, you hate history.'

'Wise up, little Jude.' Brenda teased with a giggle. 'She's doing it just because she wants to spend time looking at Father John.'

'Shut up!' Pamela stuck her tongue out at her friend.

'Am I lying?'

'Well...he's so handsome, isn't he?' Pamela squealed and hid her face behind her hands. 'He looks like such a romantic figure, so tall and...his eyes.'

'I saw your eyes when he was blessing you,' Cynthia said, sitting up to look toward the building. 'You turned as red as a tomato!'

'Stop, I did not!'

'Well, who could blame her? 'When he touched my hair I nearly fainted,' Karen confessed.

'And his smile…' Brenda said with a sigh.

'And his voice,' Pamela added.

'What about his hair?' Judith threw her arms around her body, laughing with her friends.

'What a waste.' Karen groaned as she leaned against the tree trunk sucking on a blade of sweet grass.

'What do you mean?' Pamela asked.

'A waste of a man, that's what I mean. He can't marry; he can't have a girlfriend. It's such a sad waste.' Karen shook her head in disappointment.

'She's right, you know,' Cynthia nodded, wrapping the end of her ponytail around her index finger and trying to see if she could spot the new director through the window of his office.

'I've heard stories of priests who quit because they fall in love, there's still hope.' Pamela said, smiling.

'And when you turn eighteen he'll suddenly look at you and say ' _Pamela, my darling, I think I'm in love! Marry me._ ' Karen joked, bringing her hands to her heart and feigning a quite dramatic faint.

'You are so stupid, Karen.' Pamela disdained her friend's humour.

'How old do you think he is?' Brenda asked the others.

'Hmm...he looks like forty maybe?' Cynthia replied.

'Thirty-nine, I think.' Judith said.

'What's the difference?' Karen asked, confused.

'Well, it doesn't sound so bad, that way. _How old is that handsome priest? Oh, he's thirty-nine. Oh, all right._ Now, if you say, _Oh, he's forty, Oh my God! Forty is like your dad!_ ' Judith answered.

'She's right, you know,' Pamela nodded. 'That one year counts a lot.'

'Yeah…' they all voiced in unison.

'Do you think if I ask Miss Smith for one of her fashion magazine she'll let me read it?' Pamela wondered aloud.

'Of course she will, I've asked her before,' Judith smiled. She loved Miss Smith.

'Why do you want a fashion magazine?' Karen asked.

'Well, I want to look good, okay?' Pamela replied, brushing her long hair away from her face and behind her ears.

'For who?' Karen insisted.

'Yeah, which one?'

'James or Father John?

'Ugh! Stop it Karen! I don't like James,' Pamela insisted.

'So, for Father John then?' Brenda teased.

'Just stop it!'

'Lord!' Cynthia gasped, looking at her friends with big eyes. 'Oh my God, don't be too obvious, but he's at his window. Now don't be obvious!'

But not being obvious and teenage girls don't walk side by side, and as soon as Cynthia spoke they all looked at the window, spotting him.

'He sees us...he's looking right at us!' Judith gulped, and at that moment, they saw him waving at them.

'Oh my God, he's waving!' Pamela tried her best to keep her voice low, and slowly, calmly, as if they had just seen him by chance, they all waved back at him.

A moment after, he was gone, and then, being teenage girls, they all fell back onto the grass laughing.

 **xxx**

Anna walked along the hall that led to Father John's office. In her hand, she carried a file which Sister Madeleine had asked her to find for him. After some long minutes of going through drawers, she had managed to do so.

Her steps echoed on the wooden floor, the click of her heels giving away the silence of the old building; everyone else was outside, as Father John had suggested.

When she reached his office door, she found it halfway open, as if inviting one to enter. This was in stark contrast to Fr Benedict, who rarely welcomed anyone other than Sr Madeleine into his inner sanctum. Indeed, there would be weeks at a time when it was rare to see him at all, other than at Mass, and when they felt his veiled eyes following them down the halls or up the staircases.

From Anna's vantage point, it was impossible not to spot Father John standing at the window, hands in his pockets, his back to her.

She noticed he had removed his jacket and waistcoat, and that his collar was sitting atop of his desk. Jane had called him a fine figure of a man, and indeed, he was. Tall and well built, broad shoulders, an imposing figure, the true image of someone who was in charge. And if her friend were here, she would be swooning over him and elbowing Anna in the ribs to make her point, saying, 'What a waste of a man. Handsome men should never become priests.'

'Father?' She called out before walking in, and she couldn't stop the smile erupting on her lips. There was something about this man that made her oddly happy, maybe the way he presented himself, maybe the energy he carried, whatever it was, Anna liked it.

'Oh, Miss Smith.' He turned around to face her, his eyes crinkled in an inviting grin, as he ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to draw away a lock that had fallen over his brow. 'Come in, please.'

'Sister Madeleine said you asked for this.' Anna said, handing him the file marked: Jeremy Kent.

'Oh, yes.' He took his glasses that were resting on his desk and set them on the tip of his nose, opening the file with a focused look. 'Thank you, Miss Smith.'

'You can call me Anna.'

The suggestion made him look up at her from over his lenses, with a smile. 'Would Sister Madeleine approve that?'

'Well, probably not.' Anna said with a giggle. 'She's the only one who calls me Miss Smith around here though, and the children.'

'And Father Benedict?'

'Oh yes, him too, but it was rare he called me anything at all. He wasn't very…we never really talked much. Honestly, we steered clear of him. Sister Madeleine made sure she was the one between Father and all the others.'

'That's not hard to believe,' John nodded. 'Maybe I can call you Anna whenever she isn't in earshot.' He winked at her then and for a moment, she didn't know what else to say. Her ears turned hot, and she was sure her cheeks were red, but to her luck, he was quick to go back to reading the first page of the file he had in his hands.

'Are you interested in Jeremy Kent, Father?' she asked him.

'I am. I've been reading his files and…' He walked over and closed the door, then motioned for her to sit down as he did the same. '...he seems to be a very troubled child.'

'Thank you...he really is troubled, poor boy, and he's so smart, you wouldn't believe it. He's afraid to grow fond of people, I think. He tries to avoid contact at any cost.'

'Not surprising, given what he's been through in his short life,' John sighed. 'He doesn't want to be betrayed again. He lost everyone he loved, in the most tragic way. And according to Sister's notes, he behaves badly?'

'Well…' Anna thought for a second. 'Sometimes he does.'

'Sometimes?'

'There are ways to handle a child like him and, unfortunately, some people don't know how.'

'Some people?' John eyed her with knowingly. 'That's true.'

'And Jeremy is the reason you spent most of your day cooped up in here, Father? I don't mean to preach, but Sunday is our day of rest.'

'Indeed, but it might not surprise you to know that Sunday is my busiest day,' John replied with a smile. 'I've been reading up on Jeremy and a couple of other children I want to take a special interest in and make sure they will be handled differently from now on. And you, Anna? What's your excuse for being inside on such a lovely day?' He looked at her with those gentle, hazel eyes that had charmed her the day before.

'I have one, and it was for a good reason.' Anna pointed to the folder now resting atop his desk.

'Oh, of course.' From the window, sun rays were beginning to travel their way to her, glistening against her skin. He noticed her dress then, the lightest shade of blue, and white, with a detailed band around her waist, and a full skirt. It suited her in the most perfect of ways.

'Are you from around here?' he spoke, closing the top two buttons of his shirt, suddenly feeling the need to put his collar back on. 'From Whitby?'

'I am,' she answered. 'Born and raised. I know every corner of this place like the palm of my hand.'

'You're lucky. It's a beautiful area. My friend, Terence, lives over in Middlesbrough. He goes on about it all the time. Now I know why.'

'Your friend, the Bishop?'

John nodded his head.

'I can show you around if you want, whenever you have the time. It'd be a pleasure,' Anna replied.

He looked up at her again, 'I might take you up on that offer soon.'

'And are you settling in well, Father?'

'I am rather. Better than I thought I would. I've never done anything like this before. I hope I'm up to the task. The Bishop seems to think I am.'

'For what it's worth, I think you are too. This is a wonderful place, compared to most orphanages I've heard about, don't get me wrong, but I've always believed change is good if you let it be,' Anna declared.

'Not everyone would agree with you, I'm afraid. I hope I don't let you down.'

His bedroom door was standing open and from her vantage point, Anna could see his small twin bed. She nodded toward the door, 'I've heard you didn't like the bedroom upstairs.'

'No, and Sister wasn't very pleased with me, either. It was just too much. I like to keep it simple,' he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.

'I peeked in one time when the nuns were cleaning. Father Benedict had extravagant tastes,' she said, casting her eyes around the office.

'Unfortunately, it carried into this office. But, I didn't want to push Sister too far my first day…' That earned him a big smile from her, and he couldn't help but answer the same. 'So tell me, Anna? What was Father Benedict like? I've asked Sister Madeleine but well, I would like to hear it from one of the teachers.'

'Um, he was…' Anna hesitated and chose her words carefully. '...a very traditional man.'

'I see…' He understood what she meant by that. A traditional man was one of the many words used to describe priests, and none ever came with a compliment.

'Sister Madeleine liked him, and everyone respected him. After so many years of being here, I thought he'd be here until the day he died. I'm sorry, that probably sounds terrible.'

'Did you like him?'he asked.

'As I said, I never really spoke to him. Only during confession.'

'You get to know a lot about the other person during confession,' John told her.

'Only if you're the priest.'

Her words made him laugh out loud. Before he could say something else, the office door was flung opened, and Sister Madeleine was walking in like a hurricane.

'Miss Smith! What are you doing here?'

Anna stood up at once. 'I couldn't find you, so I decided to bring the file to Father myself.'

'If you had waited I would have come for it,' Sister Madeleine raised her voice to the teacher. 'You shouldn't bother Father John-.'

'She isn't bothering me, my door is always open, to anyone,' John interrupted the nun. 'We were just having a very pleasant conversation. I want to get to know everyone who works here.'

'But I'm here to-.'

'You are here to see to the spiritual well-being of the children, and to help me when I need it.' John opened his eyes at the old woman, trying not to raise his voice. He was not a man to lose his temper easily, but there were things in life he wouldn't put up with, and rudeness was one of them.

'I'd better be going,' Anna said with an apologetic look. 'It was nice talking to you, Father.'

'I'll take you up on that tour soon, count on it,' he replied with a kind smile, trying to make her feel better.

 **xxx**

Anna walked out of the office, closing the door behind her. His last words had made her feel a little better. She stopped at the bottom of the main stairway, thinking. He was so comfortable to be with, so kind and friendly. It was strange; they'd only met yesterday and yet Anna felt a connection like she'd never felt before, with anyone, much less a priest.

'Dreaming about that Prince Gordon of yours, Anna?' Susan, one of the other teacher, asked when she came upon her at the foot of the stairs.

Anna was taken by surprise. 'What?' She brought a hand to her chest. 'Oh, yes…of course, Gordon.'

'Who else, huh?' Susan giggled, continuing up the stairs.

But Anna had lied. 'Yeah, who else…?' she whispered to herself, glancing over her shoulder to the closed door at the end of the hall.

 **xxx**

'I hope all the teachers are as nice as she is,' John remarked, leaning back in his chair.

'It depends on what you mean by nice.' Sister Madeleine practically spat out the words. 'She's engaged to be married. She'll be leaving soon.'

'Oh?' Sister Madeleine's announcement surprised him, but what startled him the most was the thud he felt in his heart and the disappoint that washed over him out of the blue. 'That's a shame,' he said, trying to shoo away those confusing feelings. '...the children seem to like her very much. She can still work here though-.'

'Would you allow it?' Sister Madeleine asked.

'Why not? Most teachers in our country are married women,' he reasoned.

'We are a Catholic orphanage.'

'So? Isn't she Catholic? There's nothing more Catholic than to get married,' he replied shortly before curiosity took the better of him. 'And when is the wedding?' He hadn't noticed a ring.

'Well, nearly. It's presumed.'

He eyed the old nun, trying to disguise the impatience he felt with this game of hers. 'You said she was engaged.'

'Not officially but everyone is expecting the announcement soon,' Sister said.

 _Why was she even doing this? Why had she told him about it in the first place?_ He felt her stare at him, almost as if watching his thoughts processing. _Enough of this_. 'All right, that's all, Sister. You can go now. And close the door on your way you.'

 _The bloody woman_ , he thought as she left the room. _God, forgive me, but she won't be easy to deal with...she won't._

 **xxx**

 _Late that night._

In her dark room, Sister Madeleine prayed. The image of St. Mary Magdalene looking down, her porcelain face illuminated by candle light.

She prayed before bed, like she always did, kneeling down on the floor and thanking her patroness for another day. Tonight, though, she didn't thank her. Instead, she asked for enlightenment, for wisdom in a decision.

'How can I allow someone like him to direct our institution? We need a man worthy of this place. He thinks he'll bring change into this house...change from what? We don't need change...we need peace and quiet, so our work can be done. He'll set their minds to rebellion; he'll spread it all over our children's hearts. He's not suited for the priesthood...in my heart I know he's not. I know I'm right on this, I do. You would show me otherwise, my Holy Patroness, wouldn't you?'

The old statue didn't answer her, but her glassy eyes spoke volumes to this old woman, or that was what she wanted to believe. Some people see what's before their eyes; others see only what they want to be there.

She stood up then, after thanking the Saint and making the Sign of the Cross, and determinedly, she walked to her desk. The moon outside shone through her window, but she closed her heavy curtains before beginning to write.

 _'To: The Most Reverend Terence Patrick Drury,_

 _Bishop of Middlesbrough…'_

The letter would be sent the following morning. The reply would arrive not more than one month after.

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:** Magazines, walks, and football._

 ** _Thank you for reading :D_**


	4. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** Hello everyone!We are very happy with the response we've been getting for this fic. We love writing this story, and hope you keep your interest :) Let us know in the reviews! :) Handy-for-the-bus  & Terriejane_

 _ **Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1-2._

* * *

 _ **Blessed ~** Chapter 3_

 **x**

' _Where is my faith? Even deep down...there is nothing but emptiness and darkness...If there be God-please forgive me.'_

~ One of Mother Teresa's many quotes of despair and doubt.

 **x**

There wasn't as much for a teacher to do during the summer months other than help the nuns where they could and supervise any projects the students might undertake. This summer they seemed to like painting and Toddler and Baby Care. Consequently, Anna found herself spending most of her time with the budding artists on the cliffs overlooking the sea and village below, and in the nursery with the little ones.

This fine June afternoon found Anna in the garden, stretched out on a bench swing beneath a clematis-covered arbor. She had a floral pillow, brought from her bed, supporting her head and shoulders. Her crossed ankles and bare feet, with pink polished toenails, were propped on the other arm of the swing. A light breeze lifted the skirt of her dress, exposing a lace trimmed slip before it floated back in place. Anna was reading, and she was so comfortable she didn't ever want to move; the only thing that could make this moment better was a cup of tea, but she didn't want to get up and get one. If only she could snap her fingers...

As if on cue, Father John walked out of the kitchen door, a tea tray in his hands and a smile on his lips, and he was heading in her direction. _Did I fall asleep? Am I dreaming this?_ She thought. She was not. Suddenly, feeling slightly underdressed, Anna quickly slipped her shoes back on and sat up, making room for him on the swing. He sat the tray on a small garden side table and took his place next to her.

'I've brought tea,' he said, stating the obvious and sounding a bit proud of that fact.

For a moment, Anna just stared at him 'What? How did you know I was just now thinking about a cup of tea?'

'I didn't, but I was in the kitchen fixing mine and getting under the cook's feet, I've forgotten her name, when I happened to look out the window and spotted you sitting, no, reclining here,' he said with a grin.'...and thought, that young woman needs her tea. And here it is.'

Anna knew her cheeks were flushing and only hoped he didn't as she accepted her tea. 'Thank you, Father, and it's Patmore.'

'Pardon?'

'The cook's name. It's Patmore, Mrs Patmore, and you really don't want to get under her feet,' she said with a giggle.

John took his teacup and relaxed back in the seat, setting it to swinging slightly. They sat there for some moments in casual conversation, enjoying their tea.

'So, this is what the teachers do with themselves in the summer, huh?' John said to her jokingly.

'Hey, I'm working here. Research.' She showed him the art books she had been reading, _How to Paint Landscapes_ , and _How to Paint Still Life_. 'I'm supervising the summer art program.'

'You teach the art class too?' John asked. 'I'm impressed. You should ask for a raise.'

'Don't be too impressed, Father. I only do it during the summer months when Mademoiselle Le Roux, the real art teacher, takes time off to return to France. I'm anything but an artist, hence my required reading material.'

'This might surprise you, Anna, but I used to fancy myself quite the artist. I wasn't, of course, but I did enjoy painting. I found it very soothing. I'll drop in on your class soon.'

'You'd be most welcome to join us anytime, Father. I know the girls would like that. Yes, the class is all girls, I'm afraid. The boys just aren't interested.'

'You mean those girls standing behind the lilac bush over there?' John nodded his head in their direction, waving to them. 'Did you want to speak to Miss Smith, ladies?'

They just stood there, red-cheeked, with smiles frozen on their faces, until Judith elbowed Cynthia in the ribs, prompting her to say, 'Yes, Father. Please, Father.'

'I guess I'd better get back to work,' he said, rising from the swing, hooking his stick over his wrist and gathering the tea tray.

'Thank you for the tea, Father,' Anna replied softly.

'And thank you for the company.' With that, he looked toward the teenage girls again, nodded his head and smiled, 'She's all yours, ladies,' and turned toward the kitchen door.

'Well girls?' Anna motioned them forward. 'What did you need to talk about?'

'Uh miss, we were just wondering…' Pamela stammered, suddenly shy.

'Ugh!' Cynthia huffed. 'What's she trying to say is that she wants to change her hair style and she was wondering if she could borrow one of your beauty magazines to get ideas. Judith said you let her look at one once and well, maybe you could let Pam?'

'Of course! I'll see you get a couple before the day is done. But tell me now, who are you trying to impress?' Anna said with a giggle.

The girls flushed and started to giggle too. They knew they had a friend and confidant in Miss Smith. She just understood them.

 **xxx**

The day was unseasonably warm for late June and she was glad she had changed into her sleeveless, dotted swiss, summer dress. As far as Anna was concerned, there was nothing better than watching the sun reflected in the sea; the gentle, summer breeze, blowing through her hair and spreading the smell of wildflowers and salt through the countryside. There was nothing she loved more than walking on her own, thinking, dreaming, and planning. But of late, her mind tended to dwell on the predicament she found herself in.

It had happened so naturally and a few years ago it was fine, but not now. Anna had grown up and her dreams and goals had too. She could no longer see herself married to Gordon. But then, when did she ever really? When she was fourteen, fifteen? She wanted more out of her life, someone different. Someone like herself, with the same dreams and ideals. She wanted sharing, conversations that could go on for hours, _passion_.When was the time she had said yes to everything? The time where she had put her foot down and cleared up this misunderstanding? She had never done that. It was her own fault everyone who knew them assumed they would marry one day. And although Anna was determined to set things straight, she knew it wouldn't be easy, but for her own happiness it needed to be done.

'Gordon?' She saw him in the distance, waiting for her, his stance always the same, that cocky smile always spread all over his face. He was leaning against the bonnet of his van - the one he used to deliver the weekly supplies of the orphanage - wearing a short sleeved white shirt inside his worn out blue overalls.

'Is that all?' he asked, running a hand over his light brown hair; his green eyes scrutinising her from head to toe. 'Looks like I haven't been missed much.'

'Don't be daft.' She tried to shake away his distrust. 'I just...wasn't expecting you. What did you do to your hair?'

'It's a flat-top, baby, and it's all the rage in the city. Don't you like it?' Gordon took her hand, bringing it to his head, 'Here, feel it.'

'Stop, Gordon! It's all greasy!' Anna said, pulling her hand from his grasp.

'What's up, Baby? I haven't come 'round for almost two weeks! Weren't you worried?'

Anna rolled her eyes. 'My name's not Baby and your father told me you had to go to Manchester with the van. So, no, I wasn't.'

'Yeah, I got it souped up. You should see her go!' He could tell she was unimpressed. 'Fine!' he sighed, becoming exasperated. 'At least give us a kiss?'

She nodded, managing a weak smile before reaching out for him, and although he was expecting nothing less than a _proper_ peck, Anna turned her face away and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

'Jesus! You can do better than that, can't you?' he spat.

'Gordon, you know if Sister Madeleine sees us she won't like it.'

'She's not here, is she? Come here, Bab...er, Anna.' He pulled her to him then, wrapping his arms around her waist and trying to kiss her. 'Give us a proper kiss.'

'Stop it, Gordon!' She pulled away, slapping him across the chest. 'Are you mad?'

'Hey! Sorry, all right? Don't have a cow!'

'This is not the park, Gordon. It's orphanage property,' she scolded, drawing a loose lock behind her ear.

Gordon shrugged his shoulders, giving in, but she knew he was upset. They remained silent for a moment. An awkward kind of silence they so often shared these days. When was the last time they had fun together? The last time they hid behind a tree for a stolen kiss? She tried to remember, she did, but those carefree days were long past.

It was at that moment when she saw Father John from the corner of her eye. He was walking toward them, carrying that gentle smile and his faithful cane. His black shirt with rolled up sleeves, white collar and black trousers gave away his status.

'Good afternoon,' John approached them, stopping next to Anna.

'Good afternoon, Father.' Anna opened her eyes at Gordon, trying to point out the obvious. She knew he could be rather obtuse at times.

'Oh!' Gordon pointing to Father John's white collar. 'Is this the new top man? I see…' He stretched his hand out to him then. 'Gordon Manning, at your service. I'm the delivery man for the orphanage's supplies, and Anna's main squeeze.' With that, he winked over at her, and she looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

'I see!' John chuckled sympathetically, noticing Anna's discomfort. 'Nice to meet you, Gordon, I'm Father John.'

'How're you getting on with all them little ankle-biters, Father?'

Father John looked puzzled. 'Um, with what?'

'The kids...yeah, I should be going...I have more work to do, just wanted to say hello to my girl here,' Gordon continued, placing his hand on Anna's bare shoulder, which she tried to draw away subtly. 'Done that so now I'm going. Have a good day, Father.' He turned to Anna with a big smile. 'I'll see you soon...Baby. I'll try to come before the week's out.'

'You don't need to bother if you have work to do,' she told him.

'I want to bother…' Gordon insisted, giving her a loud kiss on the cheek. 'Now stand back and watch this sweet ride go!'

Anna and John stepped back, as he climbed into the van and sped off, spinning his tires in the gravel.

John saw her expression as she watched him leave, and for a moment he didn't know what to say. He didn't know her well, but he knew discontentment when he saw it. He knew that all too well. Her eyes shone, like they always did, but they lacked that hopeful warmth he had encountered before.

'I'm sorry if I interru-,'

'You didn't…' she assured him with a smile. 'He was really leaving.'

'Good,' John nodded, looking down at his feet, doubting for a second if he should say something...if this was the right time, but why not? After all, she had offered. 'I was...I was thinking about going for a walk, and maybe...you would like to come me? Show me around like you promised.'

'I'd love to,' Anna replied, and that warmth returned to her eyes. 'There's so much I have to show you. Come on, let's start with my favourite place.'

John motioned for her to lead the way, glad she was so eager to show him around.

'And where are we going?' he asked as they approached a small gate nearly hidden amongst a tree line, laden with magenta coloured flowers.

'Don't you want to see the ocean? It's high tide and the seagulls must be out and about searching for food. It's a beautiful sight,' she said, struggling to open the gate.

'It does sound beautiful. Won't it open?'

'It gets stuck sometimes. You have to kick it,' Anna told him with a grin.

'Here, let me try.'

He handed her his cane as she stepped aside, and with one strong pull the gate flung opened; Anna couldn't help but clap her hands together when it did.

'That was fast,' she said with a chuckle, handing his cane back. 'I should bring you with me more often.'

John laughed at her words. 'We need to oil the hinges, or build a new gate. I'll take care of it, don't worry. You won't be denied of your walks, if it depends on me.'

'Thank you.'

'Please, ladies first.' He let her pass, instinctively placing his free hand on her bare shoulder blade; feeling the warmth of her skin made him linger there beyond what was proper, and when he realised what he was doing, he withdraw it quickly.

'Aren't you coming?' she asked, turning around to see him standing in the same spot. Her skin flushed after his touch, but she knew better than to take much notice.

'Yes, of course.' He smiled nervously and walked through, the sound of the waves already coming to his ears.

 **x**

'I've heard you were engaged to be married,' he said, as they ambled along the cliffs, the ocean and the village down below to their right, and an endless field of yellow and red poppies, daisies, and dandelions to their left. The orphanage was now hidden behind a line of hazel and oak trees, each more than hundred years old. In the distance, sat the little farm on the hillside, and it's field dotted with sheep and goats, nearby. It was a beautiful place to be, but amongst all this beauty there was nothing that could settle his heart. He prayed, though, that with time, and being here, he could shut out all his demons and move on with his life, better still, his work.

'Oh...' Anna shook her head, squinching her forehead to protect her eyes from the afternoon sun. 'I know there are those rumours, but don't believe them, I'm not.'

'I see…'

'Gordon and I have known each other since we were born. We just kind of drifted into being sweethearts, you know.' She shrugged her shoulders with a weak, longing smile. 'We grew up together and everyone's expecting us to get married soon, but we've both changed so much.'

'Everyone's expecting?' John nodded, watching as a seagull flew overhead. 'What about you?'

'Me?'

'Of course! You are the potential bride…' he chuckled. 'What others expect has nothing to do with it, and should not influence your decision.'

'Oh yes, of course.'

'And?'

He found the need to advise her. After all, he was a priest, and that's what priests do. Maybe there were other reasons, but he shook them away as quickly as they came to his mind. It was her eyes, really, again...her eyes that would turned forlorn and he would recognise it. He didn't tell her, and he didn't expect he ever would, but he could see it clearly and would try to do whatever he could to make her feel better, even if only with advising words.

But their conversation would come to an end, when suddenly a boy came running toward them and they realised they had once again reached the grounds of the orphanage.

'Father!' The boy stopped before them, sweat dampening his hair and his upper lip. 'Your blessing, father.'

'God bless you, son,' Father smiled at the boy. 'What is it?'

'We were wondering if you wanted to watch us practicing? We're training for the big match next month,' the boy told him.

'What match is that?'

'They play against the village children. It's a tradition,' Anna explained.

'Oh! Yes, I see...I would like to watch you training very much, uh...Louis?'

'Yep! That's me, Father,' Louis said proudly, for Father remembered him! Something Fr Benedict had never managed in all the years he'd been here.

'Go on then, I'll sit down to watch you,' Father John said and Louis ran back to his friends, who were waiting for an answer, and as soon as the boy told them what it was, they all cheered and waved at their new director.

'Now remember, lads, we have to play clean and we can't swear,' Philip told the others. 'Priests don't like no swearing.

They built the football field with two big rocks for each goal, one referee, who was pointing to invisible lines at the sides, and five boys for each team.

'Look,' Anna motioned ahead. 'Maybe we can sit with the girls over there, under the shade tree?'

'Sounds perfect!'

 **x**

'Oh my God! Look at who's coming?' Brenda whispered, turning her back to the scene. 'Miss Smith and Father John, _himself_.'

'Oh Jesus! Sit straight, everyone,' Pamela begged. 'And don't say anything stupid.'

'Like what? Father John do you like Pamela's hair? She did all that just for you!' Karen teased.

'Stop it, Karen! You're such a bully. I didn't do my hair for Father John, all right? Don't be daft.'

'Yeah, right…' Karen rolled her eyes. 'For James then?'

Pamela huffed madly.

'Listen, just relax,' Judy said. 'Father John is friendly, isn't he? He's nice.'

'That's the problem. He's friendly, he's nice...and he's _so_ handsome,' Brenda sighed dreamily.

'Shush, here they come!' Cynthia warned and they all turned silent, sitting straight and wearing their best smiles.

'Hello girls.' The teacher approached the group of teenagers, followed by Father John. 'May we join you?'

'Oh,' Brenda looked over at her friends. 'Of course!'

'So you're watching the boys play too?' Anna asked after sitting on the grass. Father John had done the same.

'Yeah, James asked us to. They like when we watch so they can show off,' Cynthia said.

'The point of playing is so they can show off,' Father reasoned with a wink. 'And especially when such lovely girls are around too see.'

The girls all froze, their cheeks turning red. Pamela felt sick, Brenda didn't faint only because she didn't want to make a scene. Judy looked ahead, biting her lips to stop a squeal, Cynthia fiddled with the grass, trying not to give anything away, and even Karen couldn't deny she had felt quite warm with that compliment.

Their embarrassed silence although, was detected by Anna right away, and she couldn't help but suppress a giggle. Now she understood the fuss about fashion and new hairdos of late, she had been their age once and she knew too well that a teenage crush could turn one's mind to mush.

'You look beautiful with that new hairdo, Pamela,' she said then, noticing the new updo the girl was wearing.

'Thank you, Miss Smith,' Pamela replied with a soft smile. Father John was listening to their conversation and find it rather amusing.

'Did you do it all by yourself?' Anna asked, quite impressed, inspecting the girl.

'No, they helped me.'

'She wanted to look as pretty as you, Miss Smith,' Brenda added.

'You're the prettiest when you look like yourself,' Anna told them. 'There's no need to want to look like someone else. But thank you for the compliment.'

The girls nodded, their mouths shut, pretending to be way too interested in the boys' game.

'Good advice, Miss Smith,' John whispered to Anna. 'Must be tempting having a young woman like you around them, I've been told girls this age are always looking for role models,' he chuckled. 'That's all I know about them.'

'You don't know much about teenage girls?' Anna asked.

'I know about boys, girls...are not my forte,' he smiled.

'Don't worry, you'll learn all about them here.'

'I hope so. I want to be able to reach everyone. I should have had more experience with people but...I suppose that's what I have to work on now.'

'I think you already reached everyone,' Anna grinned at him, and for a short second their eyes locked. They attracted each other without even knowing, one of those subconscious moments, only really felt when attention came back, like travelling, sleeping and waking up with the bump of arrival; it's happened, it's happening still…it's short, so short, but powerful.

' _Goal!'_

The cheers broke the spell. It was lost, everything. John's hand went to his collar and grasped it tightly, almost feeling the pressure of choking against his neck. There are things that happen without giving too much away, and then...it's too late to go back.

 **xxx**

Much to the chagrin of Sister Madeleine and against all tradition, Father John chose not to dine at the head table with her and the other nuns, but rather with the children. This was unheard of and she kept telling herself she wouldn't put up with it much longer. But in her heart she knew he wouldn't listen to anything she had to say. The man was incorrigibly stubborn and had a mind of his own. If there was one thing Sister Madeleine hated, it was a man she couldn't control. Father Benedict had been so easy. She missed him. ' _Oh why hasn't the Bishop responded to my letter?'_ she thought to herself _._

One day Father John would eat at the older boy's table, where there were robust discussions of football, especially once he'd mentioned, that before his injury, he had played on a few Church leagues. After that the boys were begging for tips on how to take the village team in next month's match.

He even took time out of his schedule to attend their practices and coach them from the sideline.

The next day would find him sitting with the six to ten year olds and their teacher, Miss Smith. They were a well-behaved bunch of children, quiet and respectful, that is until he began regaling them with stories from his childhood and questioning them about what they wanted to be when they grew up.

When they turned the tables on him, asking what he had wanted to be when he was a lad, he would confess, ' _Ah! I had dreams of becoming a daring pirate and sailing the high seas. Imagine that!_ ' and he would laugh freely and the children laughed with him.

' _You see, my grandad was a man of the sea. I only met him a couple of times, but the stories he told me, and the seafaring songs he sang, I carry with me to this day.'_

' _Sing us a song, Father!_ ' the children had begged one day.

 _'Yes, sing us a song,'_ Anna had encouraged softly from her chair next to him.

He would also notice Sr Madeleine shooting daggers at him every time. She was not pleased, she would never be. This was not the way she ran her dining hall, but this wasn't just her dining hall, not any more...and the smiles on the children's faces...the children would always win out.

 _'All right, but just one. It's called 'Leave Her, Johnny' the Her being a sailing ship.'_ Then, in a lovely tenor voice he began to sing.

 _I thought I heard the old man say,_

 _Leave her, Johnny, leave her;_

 _It's a long, hard pull to your next payday_

 _And it's time for us to leave her;_

 _Leave her, Johnny, leave her!_

 _Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her;_

 _Oh, the voyage is done and the winds don't blow,_

 _And it's time for us to leave her._

 _Oh, the skipper was bad, but the mate was worse._

 _Leave her; Johnny, leave her;_

 _He'd blow you down with a spike and a curse,_

 _And it's time for us to leave her..._

By the end of the song the whole room was singing, _'Leave her, Johnny, leave her!'_

He saw Sister stand from her chair, throw her napkin down and leave the hall.

 _'All right, that's enough for tonight.' His smile never ceased. 'Let's finish up here so Mrs Patmore and the kitchen staff can clear up.'_

Another day found him sitting at the table where the four to five year olds ate. The toddlers ate in the nursery attended to by Sr Mary Rose. These young ones were always asking for a story with their meal. Father John would most often tell them a Bible story, one of the gentler ones, but sometimes he'd tell them a fairytale or even a story he'd made up on the fly, using their names for the characters. Yes, the young ones loved Father John as much as he loved them.

It was only when he sat himself down at the older girl's table that things became uncomfortable...for the girl's. They had a hard time swallowing their food, they blushed uncontrollably and, well, they acted like teenage girls in the presence of Elvis. He had tried mightily, but teenage girls confused him.

Miss Moorsum, who was in charge of this age group, had pulled him aside and tried to explain. _'They have a crush on you, Father. They find you...dashing.'_

 _Dashing?! Crush?!_ Father John stared at her for a moment, not knowing what to do or say. He felt his face turn hot, and the teacher had to suppress a chuckle when she saw his cheeks flush vividly. _How...why...what was happening?_ He dared a quick glance at the girls and he saw it then... _Oh my God, no_...Teenage girls were indeed very, very...different.

 _'It's all right, father'_ Miss Moorsum had assured with a friendly smile. ' _They're girls, they'll soon outgrow you, that's what we do.'_

Yes, Sister Madeleine's dining hall was never the same after Father John arrived.

 **xxx**

The orphanage was a dark place at night, not exactly in a bad way; little light came from the sparse wall sconces that dotted the long a torch in his hand, he thought about making his way down to the library and finding a new book to read to distract his mind enough to fall asleep. Sleep, something so simple and yet he failed so miserably at it. He was happy here, he couldn't deny it, but…

' _Get off me, you fat penguin!'_

The muffled voices echoed from the children's quarters making him stop in his tracks. _Fat penguin?_ There was surely an argument between a nun and a child.

He forgot about the library and the book, and climbed the stairs to the second floor. At the end of the boy's hall - from what seemed to be a storeroom - he saw a light coming from an opened door, sounds of steps and a voice, trying to sooth away all the commotion.

'Please, Jeremy, please, be quiet.' The woman spoke softly, although there was a trace of impatience in her voice. 'You know it will be worse if you fuss.'

'What's going on?' Father stood in the doorway, seeing Sister Louise trying to hold the boy by his arms as best as she could, but every time the child was able to get away from her grip and make a run for the door.

'Oh, Father John! I'm trying to…' she took hold of the boy's hand, but soon enough he fought back, trying to hit the nun to let him go.

'Stop it!' Father told the boy, but Jeremy seemed not to care about what he said. ' Stop!' He reached for the child then, placing both hands on his shoulders and shook him to attention.

That's when the boy froze, looking Father John deep in the eyes, his face crumpled and angry, and a big red mark across his right cheek.

'What's this?' Father asked, gently holding the boy's chin to take a better look at the bruise. He faced Sister Louise then.

'Oh no, it wasn't me,' she told him apologetically. 'I would never.'

'Who did this then? Jeremy?' The boy remained silent, looking down at his feet.

'He…' Sister Louise was nervous, her hands trembled and her eyes avoided Father's at any cost. 'He cursed at Sister Madeleine and she punished him for that.'

'That's why I didn't see him at dinner?' He wondered aloud, knowing too well Jeremy wouldn't answer. Sister nodded. 'I can't believe it.' He shook his head. 'What did you say to Sister Madeleine? Hm? Answer me, Jeremy.'

'I called her a stupid bitch.' The boy spoke at last, his eyes never leaving the floor.

Sister Louise cringed at his words.

'Jeremy, why did you do that?' Father John questioned, almost pleadingly.

'Cause that's what she is,' Jeremy insisted.

He sighed at the situation, before turning to Sister Louise, who stood there just watching, almost as if she had been scolded too. 'Can you do something for me, Sister?'

'Of course, Father.' The woman came forward.

'Can you bring a tray with some bread and butter and a glass of milk for him? _Something_ to eat?'

'Of course, Father.'

'Thank you…' He smiled as she left the room, then turned to Jeremy again, facing him with sad eyes. 'Let's sit down,' he said a moment later, gesturing toward the small bed.

'I don't want to sit down.'

'All right then, I'll sit and you'll stay there…' Father nodded to the boy, trying not to give his rebellion too much importance. 'I see you have a room all to yourself. Too much trouble with the other boys, hm?' He was answered with silence and Jeremy's face looking away from him. 'I sleep in a small, windowless room too. It's not that bad…'

He tried to make small talk, but there was nothing he could say that would make Jeremy speak to him. That was, until he spotted a pad with drawings on the boy's nightstand.

'You draw?' Father pointed out, and the boy immediately took his pad away from the priest's reach.

'Don't touch it!'

'I wasn't going to,' he assured him. 'Listen, son, whene-'

'I'm not your son.'

'Well...you are in a way,' Father John smiled, 'I'm a priest, so in a way I am your _Father_. But listen, whenever you want to talk, you can talk to me. About anything, anything at all.'

'I don't want to talk to you,' Jeremy sneered.

'All right...we won't talk if you don't want to.' He rose from the bed and walked to the boy. 'But, can I ask you one last thing? After that I'll leave you.'

Jeremy eyed him for a second, before nodding for the priest to proceed.

'Does it make you feel better when you curse at Sister Madeleine or anyone else? I'm sure it doesn't…' The boy lowered his eyes to the floor again, holding the pad with his drawing tight to his chest. 'I'll make sure no one mistreats you again…' he told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and to his surprised the boy didn't pull away from his touch. At that moment the Sister came in the room, carrying a tray with leftover dinner. '

'Oh, Sister Louise, right on time! Place the tray on his bed and leave him alone.'

'I have to lock the door,' Sister Louise said.

'There's no need for that,' Father John replied perplexed. 'I'm sure he won't go anywhere.'

'That boy...he's a troubled soul,' Sister Louise whispered as they walked along the hall, after leaving Jeremy's room. 'Miss Smith says it's his defense. She's very fond of him, and she's the only one who's able to calm him down, well, and now you, Father.'

He smiled at the Sister's words. _Of course, Miss Smith is the one who reaches for the boy's senses..._

'And it won't get any better if he keeps being treated this way,' he said. 'If Sister Madeleine thinks I'll put up with this sort of punishment, she's very wrong.'

'You should tell her that, Father, but don't expect her to take it quietly when you do.'

'What do you think about all this, Sister Louise?'

'I think with you here, many problems will be solved…that's what I think,' she smiled at him before bidding him goodnight, and with that they parted ways to their quarters.

 **xxx**

The book had been long forgotten when John got back to his little bedroom. He sat on his bed with a heavy sigh, thinking back on all that had happened tonight, and these past days.

He was sure he could be happy here, in fact, he already was. He loved being around the children, the energy of this place...his new _friends_. But, deep inside his heart, his anguish hadn't ceased, it lived on to be remembered in these quiet moments of the night. There were doubts, so many, there were regrets for those doubts, there were thoughts, new ones he couldn't shake away; feelings he didn't quite understand.

Kneeling before his cross he began to pray. He prayed for light, for answers, for the soothing of his heart. He prayed for the children, for these people, for Jeremy. He prayed for faith.

His father used to say praying did nothing but waste time. Prayers were made by those too weak to solve their own problems, to blame themselves, to change. ' _You gotta have someone to put the blame on, don't ya? No one likes it, so they put it on someone who can't really say otherwise.'_

Oh, how his mother used to scold her husband for those words, and John...well, John would laugh and agree with him. He would laugh and agree...and now he was here, and deep inside, he didn't feel any different than before. If only praying helped someone he would have-

 _Oh God...forgive me. Forgive my thoughts, my words, my past actions. Forgive my doubts, my weakness. I will always be in debt to you. Forgive me, Father._

He cried that night, as it so often happened…

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:** Recurring demons._ A little visitor.

 _ **Thank you for reading :)**_


	5. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** Hello, hello! Here we are with another update, one that happened to be a really long one. This is...it has a life of its own, before we know it we are on page 15 and there's still stuff to tell. We hope you enjoy this chapter :D Let us know in the reviews! It means a lot to us when you tell us what you are feeling and what you are expecting :) It makes our day! _

**x** _Handy-for-the-bus & Terriejane _**x**

 _ **Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1-3. _

* * *

_**Blessed** ~ Chapter 4_

 **x**

Walking skeletons falling at his feet. Bare as they were born into the world. But there was hope in their eyes, remains of a long lost faith thought never to be felt again. Their names? So many, so many names, so many people, but more than that, corpses, rotting corpses and flies. The sound was unbearable, the silence even worse...to his right a mountain of clothes, to his left, shoes.

 _Oh God! Where are You? Why don't You answer me?_

 _For two thousand years I have called You,_

 _With a plea echoing in vain through space…_

 _Have I not had enough grief, Oh cruel God?_

 _For then Your eternal breast knows no bounds_

 _Of vengeance and malice?_

 _And what I done, Lord? What heinous crime_

 _Have I ever committed that Your vengeful_

 _Sword should oppress me so?' *****_

A poem, written about African slaves had never suited so well this fallen Europe. Where was He? This God, who called Himself, so kind?

 **x**

John woke up in a sweat, his eyes blind by the darkness; he trembled, shivered, hot and cold, he felt naked against pitch black. It took him a moment to realise he was safe and sound, in this tiny room he called his home. Safe and sound...when so many had perished. So many who had been better than him, who had deserved so much more... He sat up, reaching for a glass of water he kept on his nightstand and drank it in one gulp.

Nightmares like this were a regular occurrence, and he felt angry for not being used to them by now. But how could someone ever grow used to such despair and such misery? Would he ever stop seeing what he tried so hard to leave behind?

He turned on his lamp to check the time and to his surprise he found that he had slept through the night. 6:45.

 **xxx**

'Are you daft, Ivy? You can't leave the oven door opened so long else the heat will come out- Father?!' The red-headed cook froze in his presence, before stammering a very embarrassed ' _Good morning.'_ Her helper Ivy, and Sister Josephine stood at attention, watching the scene.

'Good morning, Mrs. Patmore. I just came to see if you had the pot of coffee going?' He smiled at the cook, holding up an empty thermos bottle. 'To take back to my office. Some mornings only strong coffee will do.'

'Of course, Father, I'll just -' Mrs. Patmore walked toward him, ready to fill the bottle herself.

'I'll do it; I don't want to bother you.'

'You don't...it's just…' The cook went silent, trying to find the right words to say.

'What?' Father John asked, looking around and spotting the two other women, looking at him with curious eyes.

'We're not used to the Director himself walking around the kitchen like this, Father,' Sister Josephine said.

'Father Benedict never came down here,' Ivy added.

'Reckon he didn't have the strength to drag himself this far...Oh! I do apologise, Father, I didn't mean -,'

'Don't worry, Mrs Patmore,' Father John chuckled. 'As you can see, I like kitchens. You'd better get used to seeing me around.'

'Of course.' The cook nodded, still unsure of how to behave.

'Thank you, I'm going to my office now…' he said, turning to leave, but there was something else he wanted to tell her. 'Oh! Mrs. Patmore? If you need something, I don't know, for the kitchen, anything at all, just let me know. I want to be informed.'

'You will, Father.' She managed a smile then, and a sort of awkward curtsy.

'Well…' He steeled his face, trying his best to suppress a grin. 'I'll be going then.'

'Breakfast will be served in half an hour, Father.' Mrs. Patmore said as he left and he looked back at her one last time.

'Thank you.'

 **xxx**

'Hey, Peanut.' John looked up from the accounts he was studying to see a sweet little two-year-old standing in his doorway. She smiled and toddled over to him raising her arms to be picked up, which he happily did. 'Your name's Rosie, isn't it?'

She nodded it was and tried to feed him from the bottle which she carried by the nipple.

John thanked her and pretended to drink. That seemed to satisfy Rosie, and she wriggled around on his lap to get comfortable. 'Sing?'

He had visited the nursery several times in the past month and on most occasions he a told a story to the young ones or sang with them. Apparently Rosie wanted that now, as she reached up and patted his cheek, saying, 'Sing to Wosie.'

John's heart melted, and he softly sang, _Jesus Loves the Little Children_. He held Rosie's bottle to her lips, and she latched onto it, her pudgy right hand clutching his shirt. She was asleep in moments, and John soon joined her.

This was the scene Anna walked in on twenty minutes later.

Relieved to find Rosie safe and sound, she crept over and rested her hand gently, high on Father's shoulder, near his neck and said quietly, 'Father?'

He opened his eyes and looked up at her, a slow smile growing on his lips.

'I see you found our little escapee,' Anna whispered.

'Actually, she found me. She walked in, offered me a drink from her bottle and asked to be held, bless her.'

'Well, she knew the right place to come, didn't she?' Anna lowered her eyes immediately, once it dawned on her how that could be taken. 'I suppose I should get this tiny adventurer back to the nursery. Sr. Mary Rose is no doubt tearing out her hair looking for her.'

He held his breath as he watched her lean down and place a soft kiss on Rosie's forehead. Through the fabric of his shirt, he felt the heat of her hand on his back, seeping into his body, warming him everywhere. 'No,' he said, rising from the chair more abruptly than he meant to. 'I'll take her. You carry her bottle and her dolly.'

 **x**

Father John walked into the now familiar nursery, just down the hall from his office, followed closely by Anna as he cradled the sleeping Rosie in his arms. He had come to enjoy visiting this room in the orphanage very much.

It was no bigger than it needed to be, but not too small either. Painted a sunny yellow, it contained four baby cots, three with pink blankets and one with blue and over in a quiet corner, one wicker bassinet. There was also two comfortable rocking chairs and a low, round table in the middle of the room and four tiny stools.

It had its own kitchenette and a small bedroom off to one side, with a curtain over the doorway. This room belonged to the attendant, Sr Mary Rose, a short, round, fifty-two-year-old nun with limitless patience.

Strangely enough, Father sometimes found himself in the nursery, during the later evening hours, when Sister was putting the young ones down for the night. He'd comfort a fussy child and lull them to sleep, and in turn, found his own comfort. You see, Sister Mary Rose, of The Blessed Virgin, had much in common with Father John, both were veterans of WW2, both with similar experiences. Sister had been a nurse during the war, and she'd seen it all. She could match him, horror for horror.

'We've found your little runaway, Sister,' Anna whispered as soon as they entered the room.

Sister Mary Rose threw her arms up in praise and rushed forward. 'Where had the precious babe gone off to this time?'

'I found her in the first place I looked. Father's office, on his lap and sound asleep,' Anna looked up at him with a warm smile.

'I'm not surprised,' said Sister Mary Rose. 'It is their naptime.'

'I'm terribly sorry, Sister. I should have brought her back immediately. I'm sure you were worried. You see, I'm afraid Miss Smith is covering for me.'

'Oh?' questioned Sister.

Anna chuckled softly at his side.

'Yes, Rosie wasn't the only one she found sound asleep in my office. There's something about these little ones I find so relaxing. Here, let me put her in her cot.'

'You could be the only one who feels that way, Father,' she laughed. 'It's the second one, but you probably remember that. And you're forgiven...this time,' Sister said, with a shake of her head. 'That man, he's no Fr Benedict, is he, Anna?' she said quietly.

'He is not, thank God.' They could both agree on that. And while they were standing there watching Father move from one cot to the next, blessing each child, in turn, the dinner bell rang.

'You two run and get your dinner and don't fret about me. We're on a different schedule down here. Shoo now! You don't want to keep Sr Madeleine waiting,' Sister Mary Rose warned.

'No! We certainly do not,' Father John said emphatically, placing his hand on Miss Smith's shoulder and ushering her through the door.

'I'm just going to run up to my room and wash my hands before dinner,' Anna said as they walked down the hallway. She turned toward the stairs.

Father nodded his head, 'Yes, I will too,' he replied, nearing his office.

He was waiting for her at the foot of the steps when she came down, and he sat beside her that night at dinner.

 **xxx**

'Hey sweetie, do you want to go for a walk with me?' Jane poked her head in Anna's open bedroom door. 'What are you looking at?'

'Nothing. Father John is just leaving by the back gate. Looks like he's walking out to the cliffs. He goes out almost every night. I've watched him.' Anna turned from the window to see her friend looking at her with her arms crossed, smiling and nodding knowingly. 'No! Get that idea out of your head. I'm not spying on him. I just hear the gate squeak open, and I look to see who it is. Anyone would.'

Jane giggled at Anna's vehement denial. 'I didn't say a word...'

'And you better not, because it isn't even funny anymore. I won't deny that I like him. Everyone does. He's a very nice man, but he's a priest, for heaven's sake, so just stop it.'

Jane held up her hands in surrender. 'So, that's no to the walk then? We might be able to catch up to him. Keep him company.'

'No,' Anna replied empathically. 'He probably likes being alone, to think...maybe to pray. I don't know; it's just a feeling I get.' Anna turned to her bed and held up a new pair of dungarees that were laying there. 'I thought I'd wear these to the farm tomorrow. What do you think?'

'Try 'em on. What are you wearing with them?'

Anna sat on the edge of her bed and slipped on the red plaid lined trousers and rolled the cuff up mid-calf. Then she pulled a red sleeveless shirt from her closet, put that on, and buttoned it, tying it at her waist. 'What do you think?'

'Hair?'

'I'll wear it in a ponytail.'

'Cute! What shoes are you wearing?'

'I think I'll just be wearing socks and my Wellingtons. We're going to the farm. I believe goat milking is on the agenda,' Anna said with a smile.

'Ugh! Better you than me, sweetie. C'mon. Let's at least sit in the garden for awhile. Maybe we'll catch that handsome priest when he comes back.'

'Janie, you're a terrible Catholic, and you'll probably burn in Hell for that!' laughed Anna. Then she followed her friend out to the garden.

 **xxx**

Sister Madeleine was nearly stampeded this beautiful July morning, as three children, dressed for a day at the farm, rounded the corner on their way to the kitchen.

'Here now!' she reached out an arm to grab one of the young scoundrels by the collar, but they were too fast for her. In fact, since Father John had arrived at The Blessed Virgin, life itself seemed too fast for her. She found she couldn't get a handle on it anymore. Her once tightly held control was slipping away, and she wasn't happy about that. Not one bit.

The scowl on her face grew as she neared the kitchen door. The sound of loud voices, laughter, and pans clanking together spilled out into the hallway. _What in God's name is going on in there?_ she asked herself.

And then she heard it. A deep male voice calling out _,'Is everyone ready? Do we have everything?'_

' _Everything and then some,'_ she heard Mrs. Patmore yell back. And then as Sister Madeleine stood there, with her mouth agape, the door flew open and out trouped the three children, each carrying a jug of lemonade; behind them was Miss Smith, a large picnic basket in each hand. She nodded, ' _Good Morning, Sister,_ ' and looked entirely too happy to be spending the day on a filthy farm with twenty-some youngsters.

Sister was just about to push her way into the kitchen when it was opened decisively by Jeremy Kent, who, before she could say anything, curled his lip at her, and she could have sworn he growled.

And now she found herself face to face with the imposing figure of Father John. Even more imposing because he was dressed, not in his usual clothes, but in denims and a plaid flannel shirt, with a tiny gold cross pinned to his shirt collar. He had a tan canvas rucksack flung over his shoulder. And to add to her horror, he appeared to have stubble on his face. The man had not shaved this morning!

'Good morning, Sister! Wait. Hold up, Jeremy. I don't want you getting too far ahead of me.' Father John looked at her and smiled. 'It's a beautiful day. You should go to the farm with us. You would do well to get some fresh air.' He stopped, only now noticing the sour expression on her face. 'What?'

' _What? What?_ What is wrong with you?' she sputtered, nearly at a loss for words.

'I...I don't know how to answer that, Sister Madeleine.' He was genuinely confused.

'Look at how you're dressed! You certainly don't plan on going to the farm, do you?' she huffed.

 _Did she just stomp her foot at me?_ Father John thought as he tilted his head and looked down at her.

Then he smiled. 'Yes, Sister. I do plan on visiting the farm today. I will endeavour to help Farmer O'Hara with the chores, and I'm dressed like this because I only own two suits, and I don't wish to ruin them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've been told we have goats to milk.' Then he turned and tromped down the hallway in his knee-high Wellies.

 **x**

'Brace yourself, girls, here comes the crow of doom,' Mrs. Patmore whispered under her breath, as Sister Madeleine slammed her way into the kitchen. The look of annoyance on her face told the others they were about to hear another one of her disapproving speeches.

'Can you believe it?' The old nun began, looking around perplexed. 'A man of the cloth behaving like a child, running after the children, letting Miss Smith and the other teachers lead him around by the nose... Father Benedict would never do such thing. He was a man of principle and decorum. The Bishop must be mad, sending a man like him to lead us. He probably didn't even check into his qualifications.'

'If by mad you mean we've never had such a good man, a more qualified man in charge of this place, then you are right, Sister,' Mrs. Patmore replied, stirring what would be a delicious beefy stew for dinner.

'What do you mean?!' Sister Madeleine asked, immediately offended.

'I mean what I said.'

'Do you think it's proper for a priest - _our director_ \- to spend his days playing games and socializing with the teachers and…and the likes of you three...' She pointed toward the three women, lacking words to describe them properly. '...as if you were one with him.'

'Oh Lord, forgive us if we think we are all human,' the cook remarked sarcastically, looking up at the ceiling and rolling her eyes.

'He has duties, Mrs. Patmore,' Sister Madeleine insisted, raising her voice.

The round cook turned around to face her then, one hand on her hip, the other holding the wooden spoon aloft, ready to speak her mind, as she so often did. The other two - Ivy and Sister Mary Josephine - watched in silent awe as the two indomitable forces faced each other. Trouble ahead. 'I thought this mighty building was an orphanage, and a good one too, not St Peter's Basilica. I reckon his duties lay with the children more than the paperwork, Sister Madeleine.'

'Fr Bene-'

'Father Benedict was an old fool and a troubled soul. No one but you wanted to have him around. Even if he honoured us with his presence, which rarely happened. We were servants to him, no more. I'm glad he's gone, good riddance to him and his late night calls for tea and toast, and all that.' The cook concluded, turning back to her stove to continue her work.

'Put yourself in your place!' Sister Madeleine scolded, with a shaking voice. Mrs. Patmore had been gifted with a power many envied; she knew how to handle Sister Madeleine, and she also knew how to shut her up.

'My apron is glued to the stove, as you can see. Couldn't be in a _righter_ place,' the cook stated, not caring one bit about the old nun's words.

With that, Sister Madeleine, her nose in the air, left the kitchen in a hurried step. She wouldn't come back again that day.

'You're a brave woman, Mrs. P, to speak to Sister Madeleine like that,' Ivy said, now feeling free to talk again.

Sister Josephine, on the other hand, still felt the presence of the old nun around. It made her shiver, and the young woman had to run her hands up and down her arms, before continuing to chop greens for a salad.

'I've known that crow for more than thirty years,' Mrs. Patmore said. 'Know her better than my own mother or my sisters...she knows me too. And you,' she pointed at the young Sister, 'You should be smarter in your dealings with her than you are. If there's power inside these walls, it lays with Father John now. She can't do nothing but complain.'

'What if she writes to the…Bishop or the Pope?!' Sister Josephine reasoned, worryingly.

'Saying what? Everyone loves Father John and are glad to get rid of Father Benedict?' the cook offered. 'The Bishop knew! He replaced the old man, didn't he? The Bishop's no fool. And there was nothing she could do about it either.'

'I still think she has some power,' Ivy spoke. 'She knows people. If she complains to the Bishop about Father John...she can always say he's not doing his job well.'

'Let 'em come and check for themselves. I'm sure Father John is doing a masterful job in all Bishop needs only to ask the children and the teachers...ask us for goodness sake, and we will tell 'em who's right and who's wrong. Now, finish peeling those potatoes before I grow old and die!'

'I sure hope you are right, Mrs. P,' Ivy nodded, looking over at Sister Josephine, who wasn't quite so sure about the cook's words.

'I usually am.'

 **xxx**

'Well, he's been here for a month now,' said Molly O'Hara, the farmer's wife, as she handed Anna a cup of still warm goat's milk and a small bowl of freshly picked strawberries, 'What do you think of him?'

They were taking a break, both sitting on a bale of hay watching the men work at filling a large wagon. One pitchfork full at a time.

Molly looked at Anna with questioning eyes. 'So?'

Anna smiled and turned her gaze to Father John, clad only in his black undershirt and denims and wellies. It was becoming incredibly hot, and he'd removed his flannel shirt, along with the tiny reminder that he was indeed, a priest - his golden cross pin. Anna shook her head, to clear it. 'You first, Molly.'

'Fine, if you want to play it that way,' Molly said, grinning at her friend. 'He finds his way up here a couple of times a week. Did you know that? He'll talk to Brian, help him out when he can. That stick of his doesn't hold him back much, does it? He's not a country boy; that's a fact...don't ever offer him fresh goat's milk, unless you want to see him turn green...but I think he's coming to love the country. And he loves his walks too! I see him heading down the lane a couple of times, most days.'

Anna nodded. 'He walks at night too. That's when he does his thinking, probably.'

'And praying,' replied Molly. 'We sit on a hill here. I can see the cliffs at dawn. Sometimes I can see him on his knees, or I assume it's him. Who else would it be?'

'Yes. He is a priest, after all,' said Anna softly, and a bit sadly. She watched as Father John threw down his pitchfork and held his arms out to a child running in his direction, lifting him high into the air and gently tossing the young boy into the hay wagon with a hearty laugh.

'So, your turn. What do you think of our Father John?'

Anna downed her goat's milk and looked at Molly. 'I think we're blessed. I think we're truly blessed he's come to us.'

 **x**

He had been sitting on a bale of hay just inside the barn door for some time now, watching as the children fed the goats and sheep, and taking the opportunity to rest his knee for a bit. He hated to admit it, but he might have overdone it that morning, loading the hay wagon. He stretched his arms overhead and flexed his shoulders. Oh yes, he would feel it in the next morning.

The day was sweltering. He tipped his jar of now lukewarm water over his head and let it run through his hair and down his face and neck. ' _Ah_ ,' he sighed, then shivered and it trickled down his spine and even into his shorts. Then he grabbed his flannel shirt and dried his face and hair with it.

'Ouch!' His gold cross pin had scratched his cheek.

The children sat silent and calm in the farmyard petting the animals. One persistent young goat named Sparkle had decided the cuff of John's demin's would be a tasty treat, and he couldn't help but find it quite adorable.

'They love to nibble on everything they can find.' Anna's voice came to his ears at that moment, and he watched as she sat across from him, on an overturned tin bucket. Their legs were almost touching; she carried a mug filled with foamy, warm milk.

'I've heard that about them.' John grinned, looking down at the little goat before shooing her off. 'Go on, Sparkle, the children have apples for you, go on…' and the kid jumped her way to the children then, as if understanding what he had said.

They were silent after that, and the sound of the children's laughter could be heard just meters away.

'Father John?' The teacher spoke at last, with that beautiful smile she always wore. The one that made him feel so at ease, so warm. 'I milked Sparkle's mum just now...why don't you try some?' She offered him the mug while remembering Molly's advice not to do so, but there was something that made her want to try her luck. Something she didn't quite understand.

'I didn't know you had so many talents,' John teased, eyeing the mug with trepidation. Fresh goat's milk on the spot, he cringed visibly and felt his stomach churn. But she was asking, and he found he couldn't turn her down.

'You don't know the half of them…' she giggled playfully, handing him the mug. 'Try it.'

And of course, he would try it, even though he already knew how much he hated it. He didn't know why he did it, for the exact same reason she didn't know what made her offer it to him. It was her eyes, her smile, the subtle sunburn on the tip her nose. For her, it was the way he presented himself, always so humble but noble, always so tender and wise, his eyes...always so gentle.

He took it and drank it all down.

'So, what do you think?' she asked, and he chuckled, still swallowing with some difficulty the last sip or foamy milk.

'It's... all right.'

Anna shook her head with a smile, knowing too well it had taken all his courage to finish the whole thing. She had seen his face crumble as he drank it. Now, there were remains of white foam on his upper lip and his nose. She couldn't help but point them out.

'You have…' she gestured with a giggle, and he tried to look down at it, his eyes crossing.

'Oh!' They laughed, and he quickly cleaned the remains of milk with the back of his hand. 'I'm sorry…'

Anna shook her head for him not to worry; their eyes locked, another silence. He noticed her mouth slightly parting and saw as she wet her dry lips with her tongue.

'Thank you,' John said, almost whispering.

'Whatever for?' She didn't know what he meant, or if he actually meant anything. There was so much more in his eyes, but she couldn't quite grasp what it was. She was confused.

'The milk,' he replied with a smile, and she smiled back, nodding.

'You're welcome.'

Next, without warning or thought, he found himself reaching out for her, for that golden lock that had fallen from her high ponytail, and just like that, he brushed it off her face, tucking it behind her ear as gently as he could. His fingertips grazed the warm skin of her cheek ever so softly, ever so slow.

It was only a second, no more. It was only a breath, a blink, too fast to be important, yet long enough to be remembered forever. The right amount of time for a close of the eyes and an intake of breath, and for his fingertips to burn as soon as he withdrew his hand.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, and at that moment, his eyes worried her. They were wild, frightened, pleading. _Please, don't let it happen again_.

'We should gather the children so they can have their picnic. It's almost one,' Molly spoke, peeking inside the barn with the cheery expression she always carried.

'Oh, of course, let's do that,' John said, standing and shaking off some hay from his shirt. 'I'm rather hungry too.' He smiled, looking at Anna questioningly as if the moment spent a few seconds ago had never happened.

'Me too,' she nodded, following him outside. She had lied.

 **x**

'What do we have here…' Anna looked into the picnic baskets.'Cheese and ham sandwiches, chicken salad and lemonade.'

The children cheered for the delicious lunch. A morning of hard work, sun and sweat had made them starving. They sat under the shade of an old oak tree, smells of the country and the sea, drifting on a Summer breeze.

'Come on, pass it on.' Father said, taking some sandwiches and giving them to the children next to him; Anna did the same. Soon enough, everyone had their share and picked from the chicken salad at the middle of the blanket on the ground.

'Don't you eat?' he asked, but Anna didn't hear him right away. She was distant, her ham filled bread resting on her lap. 'Miss Smith?'

'Oh, yes…' She shook her thoughts away. 'I'm not too hungry. It's the heat I think.'

'Maybe.'

She smiled over at him before asking. 'Are you enjoying your day, Father?'

'I am, rather. It's lovely to work on the farm, and even more so with the children. Are you all enjoying it too?'

'Yes!' The children shouted in unison, giggling happily.

'Splendid.' John chuckled, before turning to face Miss Smith again, and again, she was looking into the distance, but this time her eyes had an aim. 'He's doing well.'

'He is, but...it would be better if he was eating with us. He always finds his way away from us.'

Jeremy was her source of worry at the moment. The boy was eating by himself, under the shade of a smaller tree. Eyes on the sky, back on the trunk, legs crossed and a pensive look on his face.

'He's a man of his own time and place,' John said.

'A man?' She shot him a look, and he couldn't help but smile.

'Well, you know what I mean. He likes to be alone. He's an artist, artists are lonely people.'

'How do you know?' Anna asked rather surprised. 'Did he tell you about his drawings?'

'No, but I saw his pad. Have you seen them?'

'No,'she pursed her lips, disappointed. 'He doesn't let anyone see them but he's talked about it with me. Although, I think his loneliness comes from another place. A sadder one.'

John sighed, watching the boy, recognising himself in him.

'Sadness comes when he's surrounded by people who don't respect him, by people who remind him of home, or what happened. He finds peace in being alone, he finds comfort in knowing there's no one to let down.' John stopped speaking for a moment, the same moment Anna looked at him questioning, worriedly, knowing too well he wasn't only speaking about Jeremy anymore. He ran a hand along his chin, thinking of something to say that could change the course of his words. 'I mean…why don't you call him?'

'Yes…' she nodded, but she wouldn't forget about John's speech soon, if ever. His words would come to her many times, and one day she would know exactly what they meant. 'Jeremy? Come here, darling.' The teacher gestured toward the boy and he did obediently as she asked. 'Sit down with us, are you enjoying your lunch?'

'I am, Miss,' Jeremy replied, sitting between the two adults with his cheese sandwich and glass of lemonade.

'And what about working on the farm?' Father John asked.

'Yeah. I really wanted to come,' the boy confessed, his eyes always on the ground.

'Sister Madeleine said you got into trouble the few times you came.'

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders at the Father's allegations.

'He would run off,' Anna told him. 'And it would take us hours to find him. It happened twice.'

'Why, Jeremy?' Father asked the boy.

'I don't know.'

'Well, he didn't run off today' Anna smiled, running a gentle hair along Jeremy's blond hair. 'And he did a wonderful job with the babies. Did you see him bottle feed them? Almost as well as Brian.'

'I like the little'uns,' Jeremy said. 'I used to help my father with them. We had a couple.'

Father and teacher shared a look between the two.

'I didn't know that. You rarely talk about home,' Anna spoke, trying to look into the boy's eyes, but he wouldn't allow it to happen, not after what he had said.

'May I go now?'

'Yes, Jeremy. You can go,' she sighed, saddened as she watched him leave.

'Don't worry, things will get better.' John tried to cheer her up. He hated seeing her so distressed...he longed to always keep a smile on her lips. 'We'll help him.'

'I know, Father.' The smile was back and her light was too. She looked at him then, hopeful, sure. 'I know.' And above all so happy _he_ was there.

 **x**

'Anna, wait up!' Molly ran down the lane, waving one arm wildly. 'You forgot your flowers!'

The little day farmers were heading back to the orphanage after having quite a time in the sun. Father John, lightly swinging his stick at his side, was in the lead, followed by a two-by-two line of hand-holding children. Miss Smith brought up the rear-guard.

At the sound of her friend's voice, Anna stopped. 'Oh, thanks, Molly. You're a doll. I picked these for the Chapel,' indicating the jar filled with mostly lavender. 'I don't know how I forgot them.'

'Well, you've had a lot on your mind today. Twenty kids! Better you than me.'

'That's the second time in as many days someone has said that to me. I'm going to have to start re-examining my life choices,' Anna said with a giggle.

Molly shivered and rubbed her arms. "Golly, after being so hot all day, the temperature has really dropped, hasn't it? And you have bare, sunburned arms. Do you want me to run and get you a jumper?'

'No, don't bother. We only have a fifteen-minute walk. I'll be fine. I'll just walk a bit faster. Thanks for having us today, Molly. I'll see you at church on Sunday.' Anna hugged the farmer's wife, and when she turned around, she found Father standing beside her.

'Mind if I join you at the back of the line?'

'Of course not, Father.'

'Even tired they're too fast for me…' John winked, tapping his leg with his cane. 'Beautiful flowers.'

'I love lavender. I picked them for the Chapel,' she said, touching the bouquet ever so gently. 'If you set them in front of an open window we'll smell them clear through to the nave.

'Oh, that's a lovely thought.'

He watched as she admired the flowers, her joyful expression making him linger as if there was nothing else around. The sun was setting, golden and crisp, birds gathered, flying overhead, the countryside felt still, like a paradise, but for John, at that moment, she was the only thing he could see. 'Thank you.'

'I love picking wildflowers,' Anna continued. 'It makes me feel so at peace, and it's even better when I can bring a bit of that peace home with me and share it with someone...someone like you.'

'It's a relaxing ritual then…' He nodded, looking down at the path beneath their feet, and remembered back to all the times he had seen her walking among the wildflowers; it made him wonder. 'Do you need peace, Anna?'

Her eyes found his immediately. Was she so obvious? Or was he that sharp? Maybe both...maybe it was so much more than that. 'Doesn't everyone, Father?'

The children walked on ahead, singing songs and talking. Some more tired, drug their feet and complained about their now empty stomachs. Dinner time was fast approaching. From the cliffs, the breeze blew colder now, damper. Anna shivered.

'Are you cold?' John asked her, taking his shirt off his shoulder.

'Just a bit. I'm afraid I got too much sun today too. That doesn't help. It's giving me chills. It's my own dumb fault, though. I should've brought a jacket.'

'You did get a little rosy,' he said, taking in her shoulders and pink nose. 'Take my shirt.'

'Oh, there's no need. You must be chilly too,' she replied politely.

'I'm not...here, I insist.' He wrapped his plaid shirt around her, so careful not to touch her sunburned skin and instantly she felt her body warm up. Was it the softness of the flannel or his nearness? Or maybe the smell of him surrounding her.

Anna held the shirt close and pulled up the collar, burying her nose in it. Inhaling his scent. When she realised what she was doing, she lifted her head quickly.

He was watching her and smiled. It reached his kind eyes.

'Thank you, Father,' she said, relaxing under that comfortable sensation.

'You're - Oh!' John felt a tug at his trousers, and when he looked down, he saw a girl holding onto his leg. 'Hello, er…'

'Collette,' Anna said, chuckling.

'Collette? That's very French.'

'She is, from her father's side.'

'I see…' John nodded.

'My legs are so tired,' the girl said with a tiny pout, leaning more of her weight on him as they walked.

'Are they, darling?' Father spoke softly, his hand on Collette's curly, dark hair.

'Uh-huh…'

He asked the teacher to hold his cane for him, and without a second thought, he picked the girl up in his arms. 'Come here then.'

'Father, she can walk,' Anna said.

'It's all right. Better now?' Father John asked, and Collette happily nodded with a victorious smile, as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

'You shouldn't strain your leg,' Anna advised, 'Anymore than you already have today.'

'Don't worry; I can manage. She barely weighs anything. I may have to ask for help getting out of bed in the morning, though,' he said with a smile, 'I don't doubt I'll be stiff and sore. I got more of a workout than I've had in a long time. But it was good, Miss Smith. Yes, it was very good, indeed. Just what was needed.'

They continued their slow walk back to the orphanage, Collette ending up dozing off to the rhythm of their steps.

 **x**

' _Thank you for the shirt, Father John. And the lovely day.'_

Her words would echo in his head all night. He tried to read, but it was her voice he heard. He tried to pray, but it was her face he saw before him. It was unsettling and soothing at the same time, as the nervous feeling before something grand is about to happen.

John found himself sitting on his bed hours later, his shirt in his hands and the smell of country flowers drenching his soul, warming him so completely. He hadn't been cold because she had been there, he hadn't been restless because her smile had been so sure. It shouldn't be this way...it was wrong, it was forbidden, but what could he do? She filled his heart and soul.

And that night he dreamed of her. _Oh Lord, why?_

 _She sat in a loose pile of hay reading a book, and he couldn't take his eyes away from her. She asked him to join her, and he did. There was nothing more than that, save the bare skin of her forearm against his own. There was only peace and quiet, her yellow hair and silken skin, her graceful fingers turning the pages and his eyes locked on every movement, every blink, every smile. Nothing more than a moment of innocent fulfillment. Nothing else than a serene heart._

When he woke up, the shirt was still clutched in his hands and her smell forever in his memory.

In another room, she sat up in bed confused, perplexed, worried. They had shared the same dream; they just didn't know that...yet.

 **xxx**

It was a rare occurrence to find a sullen face at mass these days; not since Father John had taken over.

Gone were the long, drawn out, sometimes incomprehensible and meandering sermons, delivered in a monotone voice. Father Benedict could preach a frightening, damning, if not slurred sermon.

Now, Father John...what a different soul he was. Along with the usual Mass, he always had a light-hearted tale to relate, from his own life or from people he had met along the way; examples in disguise the children listened to and learned from without even realising. He had a way with words, he did. A way with words and with people, young and old. He was a quiet man, but with great energy, a quiet soul born to teach. He had always been like that, it was life, happenings that made him hide his light under a bushel, but he would come out plenty when surrounded by boys and girls, by laughter and quite simply looked for the best in people, and they naturally found the best in him.

His masses were never over an hour; he was careful for them not to be. He knew children had no patience for long speeches and sermons, and honestly, neither did he.

This Sunday in July brought another service, another story. More muffled giggles and joyful smiles. His eyes, for some still unfathomable reason, kept finding Miss Smith's among the nave full of people. And when their eyes met, his heart would burn in his chest, both soothing and worrying. _What in God's name was happening?_

And the young teacher... she felt the same. There was simply an attraction, without even knowing, without even wanting there to be.

Father gave the final Benediction.

'Before you go,' he cleared his throat when the children began to rise from their seats, more than ready to run outside and enjoy their day. 'There are a couple of things I need to mention. First, there will be a special football practice this afternoon, in preparation for our match with the village next weekend. It's imperative for all of you boys to be there.'

'And lastly, before you go,' he went on, 'I put a small suggestion box at the entrance of the chapel,' he pointed ahead to the open door '...as you may have noticed. I want you all to be thinking up some ideas you would like us to put into practice. Write them down and place them in the box. Anything...well, anything within reason, of course.'

There were a few raised eyebrows as ideas began to brew in everyone's minds. From suggestions for special dishes to be served at evening meals to a later 'lights-out' on weeknights to Saturday night dances. At the same time, their minds worked and planned; there was also some surprise at Father's suggestion. Something like this would never have happened under Father Benedict's reign. He would run from change as fast as Satan ran from the Holy Cross. Things were definitely changing at The Blessed Virgin, and not everyone liked it.

Father John released his congregation, saying in a playful tone, 'You are free from your Sunday duties. Go outside. Play, enjoy this lovely day which the Lord has given us.'

With that, he turned and walked to the adjoining room of the chapel, carrying the remains of Communion on a tray.

 **x**

'But, you know how children are, they don't measure good and evil. God knows what they will come up with.' Sister Madeleine insisted, gesturing her rage in an exaggerated manner.

'Good and evil?' Father John turned to the nun, after placing the tray on a round table in the middle of the room, a puzzled look on his face. 'Goodness, Sister Madeleine, we are not dealing with criminals here. What could they possibly suggest that would be so bad? Two-hour classes and the rest of the day to play and have fun? It's a _suggestion_ box, Sister, they suggest, and we see which ones we can abide. I reckon some of them will be quite entertaining.'

'You underestimate children, Father.' She shook her head, hating not to be able to change his mind. 'We cannot simply let them do whatever they want. We must retain a tight rein on them. We are here to educate them, to give them rules to follow-.'

'I don't, Sister. If there's something I don't do, it's underestimate whatever person is before me.' Father shot her a look, a look she didn't expect. 'And yes, we are here to educate them, not to make them prisoners. Children are meant to play, to have fun, to learn from their own mistakes...they are just learning how to live. We can't ask them to be adults before their time. That's the problem with so many of us.' He managed a smile then, his eyes never leaving her cold ones. 'Now, if you don't mind, this business is settled...I have work to do.'

Once again, she had lost, and she didn't like it. 'Of course, Father.'

He sighed after she left, and placed the blessed hosts into the tabernacle and locked it. The task was done without a breath. Without a flinch, without blinking; he was afraid that was all it would take to go back. This ritual made him almost sick, but not as sick as having to pretend to take a sip during communion. _Was it the same thing? Was the importance of that act as credible the way he did it? Because...what if...what if he liked it too much. What if he liked it too much, again?_

John shook his head, clearing it completely of those kind of thoughts. There were so many things he should think about these days, good things, happy things. Recurring demons only made it worse.

After storing the bottle of wine and the box of blessed wafers in a cabinet, John opened the window, needing to hear the laughter and voices from outside. The children were all there, rolling in the grass, laying under the shade of the ancient trees; some with books, others kicking a ball around, the little girls with their doll babies, pretending to be mama's even though they had no mamas of their own. The scene made him smile. Was there anything better in the world than the happiness of children? Their simple take on life and in whatever they did? Was there anything better than children surrounded by nature, free and joyful as their young years?

And then he heard it - the musical sound of giggles wafting up from just under his window. He couldn't help himself. He listened in…

 **x**

'I'm telling you, girls, this is the chance we've been waiting for. I'm doing it, and I'm doing it now,' Cynthia declared. 'Who's got a piece of paper in their bag?'

"Here, but it will never work. Sister will never allow it.'

'It's worth a shot, isn't it? Now, what should it say?'

' _How about, Dear Father John - May I have this dance, please?'_

'Brenda! Seriously, stop that!' Cynthia continued. 'How about...

 _Dear Father John, we, the older girls, would like you to consider allowing us to hold one Saturday night dance a month in the Dining Hall. Thank you for your consideration. Signed by, Cynthia, Brenda, Karen, Judith, and Pamela._

'Here, sign your names.'

'I still say Sister will put the kibosh on that. She's never going to understand.'

'Let's hope Father has the final say then. He'll understand. He gets us. We're teenage girls! We gotta dance!'

'Now let's go stick this in the box and get the ball rolling!' They all stood up and ran to the front of the chapel.

John had to step back quickly to avoid being seen.

 **x**

The girls always entertained him and often terrified him. _I'll never understand them,_ he thought. _Never._

He stood there smiling for a time, but his smile faded when he looked down at the jar of country flowers; flowers that had been picked by Miss Smith a few days ago and that still looked as fresh as that first day. He stared at them, daring to touch a stalk of pink lavender. After a moment he gently pulled it from the bouquet, running it across his cheek and bottom lip.

Her hair had looked like spun gold that day and her face kissed by the sun. She had a smile brighter than anything he had ever seen. When he drew close enough, he caught the scent of country flowers and sweet soap. She was easy, beautiful, kind. Her eyes held so many secrets, secrets he longed to know and gentle glances, if only he could...if only he...

He put the lavender back into the jar at once, taking a deep breath. First his dreams, now his thought...

 _John Bates, what are you doing?_

Running a nervous hand through his hair, he reached for his Bible sitting on the small, round table, and slowly, he took the book in his hands, ready to open it at random; something his mother would do at times of despair.

She used to tell him that God would guide her hands, and the Holy Book would open to a soothing verse, and there, she would find the peace she needed at the moment. For John, it had never worked that way. Whenever he did the same it only left him more restless than before, and for years he had avoided doing it, but today, for some reason, he felt compelled.

' _But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.' James 1:6_

He was a wave, indeed. A stormy wave on a winter's night. Above all restless and tired, bone tired from wrestling with it all. If there was a way to find Spring again. To find comfort. Peace. _Forgiveness._

* * *

 ** _Next Chapter:_** _The football match with the village of Whitby._

 ** _*Vozes D'Africa_** _by_ ** _Castro Alves_** _-_ _Brazil 1847-1871._

 ** _Thank you for reading :)_**


	6. Chapter 5

_**A/N:**_ _Good evening everyone! Another long chapter for you to enjoy over the weekend :) Let us know what you think! We love to read your thoughts and opinions about our story, it makes our day :D_

 _ **~ Terrie and Handy**_

 _ **Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1-4. _

* * *

_**Blessed ~** Chapter 5_

 **x**

' _Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them! For the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'_

 ** _Matthew 19:14_**

 **x**

John clasped his hands together, the force of the act making his knuckles turn white. His knees were pressed heavily into the hard kneeler, and on the wall, the wooden cross danced against its own shadow in the lamp-light.

' _Why all these doubts, Lord? I came here to shut them away but… Aren't I worthy of peace and assurance? Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm being punished. Is this a test, my Lord? Are you trying me for something yet to come?'_

Another day, another prayer. Guidance, advice, peace of mind; he would ask for these things day after day, but as always, his pleas brought him little solace. If only he could grasp those concepts as easily as paper, fold it and carry it in his pocket to look at it whenever needed. A map to follow. The very hand of God guiding his every step. But John felt no more than a boat without port, wandering in a sea of doubt and regret. Every night he prayed, and every morning he thanked, but the answers never came to him. Maybe his doubts lived _there_ , in the lack of a reply. In this lack of peace, a peace that only seemed to soar above him whenever -

He shook his head trying to avert such thoughts and sat down on his neatly made bed. There was a sigh, as always, whenever he looked up at the painting of Saint Peter. John knew well what the Saint was feeling as he raised his tear-laden eyes to Heaven.

Slowly, he dressed for the day, the sun barely rising on the horizon, like crisp gold metal, burning away the dark of the night. He liked early mornings like this. John's life here was not without its joys. A sunrise, a new day and the chance of a new beginning...it gave him hope. It made him believe the answers would come, eventually, and he would find his way.

Not long after, he was down for a quick breakfast in the kitchen. He liked it there. There was a hustle and bustle that seemed to strangely relax him, and a cheery atmosphere, as the jovial, wise Mrs. Patmore always had something to say - on everything - shouting out orders for Ivy and young Sister Mary Josephine. It was obvious to John she was very fond of 'her girl's'.

There was also the constant aroma of the good food he loved so much, the sounds and smell of the coffee percolating and the steam rising from the tea cups, the herbs hanging from the walls, drying for infusions and scent. Pots and pans, wooden tools, the patterned mosaic of the floor making it all come together. The windows thrown opened, the fresh air coming in, a child or two asking for water or something to eat.

After that, he made his way to the chapel, to tidy up anything that was out of place. The door was always opened, and the nuns liked to go in there to pray, the children too, to hide during their games. He had found a couple of boys there one time, hiding under a pew, in a game of hide and seek, and he had feigned not to know anything about them when their seeker asked. He liked the sound of laughter inside the _House of God,_ as he knew God Himself liked it as much.

Sister Madeleine was another story. She hated when children got in the chapel other than to attend mass or to confess, which didn't happen often enough for her liking, and when it did, John got it over with quickly. Boys and girls were meant to play, not to confess their sins.

He walked with his Bible under his arm, on the other his stick, the door of the chapel open wide, light coming in, and then, to his surprise, he found he wasn't alone. She was there, on bended knee, her elbows resting on the pew in front of her, her hands together in prayer. John stood there in the doorway for a moment, watching. Her high ponytail, falling off to the left side of her neck, exposing the delicate curve of her spine. She was Spring, dressed in her pale yellow dress. Spring in all its glory. And John was spellbound.

Sometimes it caught him unaware, these feelings stirring within him. He knew they were wrong, so very wrong, and that only added to the guilt he carried. For, how can a priest adore that which is not divine? Anna Smith, a woman. Everything that was forbidden.

Her movement drew his attention back to the moment, as she sat back on the pew, hands in her lap. He walked to her then, slowly, carefully, not to make a noise, and when he reached her she opened her eyes, and he was welcomed by that smile. _Oh, peace and warmth._ An answer before him...he just didn't it know yet.

'Father, I didn't know you were there,' her voice was low out of respect for the place they were in, her eyes travelling to the book he carried.

'I wasn't,' he smiled back, holding his Bible tightly. 'I don't want to intrude on your prayers.'

'You would never.' She tapped the wooden bench, gesturing him to sit with her. 'And...it wasn't really a prayer, just a…a conversation.'

'Every word to God is a prayer, no matter where you are,' he said, looking up at the altar, and the silver cross hung on the wall, a stained glass window on either side; his Bible now resting on the bench between them. 'If you are seated, standing, kneeling...here or in your room, outside...if you address Him, that's all that matters.'

'Yes,' Anna nodded, looking down at her hands. There was something else she wanted to say. 'Do you think...well, of course, you do.'

'What?'

'It's a foolish thought I had,' she chuckled, shaking her head. 'Nevermind.'

'Please?' He looked deep into her eyes, and the gentleness she found there made her feel comfortable enough to speak.

'Do you think He's listening?' She brought one hand to her cheek, half embarrassed. 'I mean...sometimes it doesn't seem like it.' She shook her head. 'It's a stupid thought.'

'Of course, it's not,' he assured her. 'I understand...when we speak we like to be answered right away, it's only human. But God answers in His own time, not when we want Him too, that's why I'm here. Through His word I can help you, that's what priests are for.' _But why couldn't he follow his own advice?_

They smiled at each other, comprehension written in their expressions. She liked that about him; he was a friend, a person she could talk to, not just a messenger of God. He was...something else, and so much more. For him, she was someone he knew he could trust, although sharing too much wasn't a thought that occurred to him, but he knew she would be there if needed, and he was there for her, always.

'I was just seeking advice,' she said with a sigh, her eyes on her hands again. 'Guidance.'

'Guidance?' His own pleas back at him. John tried to read her, but she wouldn't allow him to, not yet. 'You are a shell, Anna Smith, a closed one,' he grinned.

'You sound like my mother.'

'Well, you won't be surprised if I tell you I'm the same.' He cocked his eyebrow at her, and she couldn't help but giggle.

'No, not one bit.'

She faced the altar then, the cross the object of her attention. Her eyes grew sad. He could tell she was trapped inside her thoughts, and somehow he felt he knew why.

'I wish I could help you with what troubles you, _your heart_ , but, if you don't want to speak, that's fine,' he told her.

Anna nodded. 'Mother always said you shouldn't seek advice from a priest in matters of the heart because they don't know much about it.'

'Some don't...others had their flirts before priesthood.'

'Are you talking about yourself, Father John?'

He chuckled at her words, and that would be her reply. There were things she shouldn't know...or anyone for that matter.

Anna faced the cross again, eyes lost and distant, her fingers fiddling against each other. At that moment, without thinking, he reached for one of her hands and took it between his, gently caressing her knuckles as a gesture of support. It was so much more than that, though, if only he dared to allow such thoughts to surface...the warmth of her skin, the softness, the way her fingers moved with his touches.

'Don't be sad…' he said, at last, his eyes dropping to their hands, hers never leaving the set of expressions portrayed on his face. 'Everything in life is nothing but the wind. It passes by, only for another one to blow, never lasts long, always unpredictable, but it wouldn't be life without it. Whatever is causing you worry now, it will pass.'

And when he looked back at her, there she was still, transfixed in that so short moment that seemed to last more than a lifetime. It was a second, it was a long as his speech, and upon her frozen breath, he dared, and when he did it was dangerous and so wrong.

'Not quite…' she managed to say, the start of tears stained her deep blue gaze. 'If I-,'

 **x**

He had noted the look of despair on her face as she heard Sister Mary Louise's words interrupting their conversation. 'That young man of your's is outside waiting to see you, Anna.'

'Thank you, Sister,' she said. Then she turned back to Father and shrugged her shoulders. He nodded his head and smiled understandingly at her as she turned and followed Sister Mary Louise out through the side door of the chapel. John proceeded into the Sacristy.

After some minutes, his interest was drawn to the voices he heard coming through an open window. He recognised Anna's, but could not hear the words being spoken. John stepped closer to the window then, not intending to listen, just to see.

Gordon was a handsome man, that much was for sure, not so tall, but well built. If looks alone counted for anything, he was the perfect match for Anna.

John heaved a sigh at the scene before him and found himself unconsciously sucking in his belly and standing straighter. But looks counted for very little, and Anna was having doubts about her relationship with Gordon. She hadn't voiced them to him yet, but he knew. John knew.

He watched them now as they sat on a bench in the sunlight, Anna's pony-tailed hair swung from side to side when she shook her head vehemently over something Gordon had said in a raised tone. She stood and started to walk away, but he pulled her back roughly by the arms and tried to kiss her.

John was ready to rush outside and intervene when Anna slapped him hard, pushed him away and ran back toward the building. Gordon raised a fist in the air yelling, ' _Anna! You can't walk away from me!'_

She looked back over her shoulder. ' _Watch me, Gordon.'_

John silently cheered her on. His position the last thing on his mind now.

 **xxx**

Gordon parked his delivery van at the top of the small hill, overlooking the make-shift field. Down below he could see the lads of the Blessed Virgin, practising for the big match tomorrow in Whitby with the village youth.

He watched, as the boys flocked around the tall figure in black, their precious Father John. Gordon didn't like the man. He didn't know why. Perhaps because he was too present, so unlike the reclusive Father Benedict. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen the fat friar, as Gordon had always called him. But this new man - he was everywhere, in everybody's business and everyone loved him, with the possible exception of old Mad Madeleine. Gordon would have to keep his eye on him.

He climbed out and walked to the front of the van, hopping up on the bonnet, smoke curling up from the fag between his fingers. Gordon had a personal interest in the outcome of the tomorrow's game. He'd gambled his entire paycheck on the village winning. A kid's football match was small potatoes indeed, but these days Gordon would even bet on a turtle race.

From over on the other side of the field, he saw a nun running up, flapping her arms like a deranged penguin and calling to Father John. The priest listened to what she had to say, spoke to the boys for a moment and then followed the nun back to the orphanage. When they were out of sight Gordon all but rubbed his hands together in malicious glee. His plan was about to come together.

A week ago, shortly after he'd placed his bet, he happened to catch the team practising. Much to his dismay, they'd improved significantly in the past two months, probably because of the help the annoying new director was giving them.

Since Anna seemed to be avoiding him like the plague these days, he'd spent last Friday night coming up with a scheme to sabotage the match. Nothing drastic, mind you, nothing to cause lasting harm, but enough to knock the legs from under the team on game day, so to speak. He needed a plan teenage boys would fall for. _What did they crave? He asked himself. Girls and smoking and booze, of course!_

Gordon thought back on his own experience. One that had almost nipped his smoking habit in the bud before it even got started. He was sixteen, and all the lads his age had been smoking fags on the sly for a couple of years, but not Gordon, because, well Anna hated smoking. Then one weekend Anna went away, and he was left to his own devices. Hanging with his mates, he'd smoked his way through an entire pack of fags in less than an hour. He still turned green just thinking about how sick he got that night.

He could hardly afford to give each boy a pack of fags to smoke on their own. He was a poor as a churchmouse thanks to that damn turtle race, but he did have a source who could score him a box of eighteen hand-rolled cigars. Gordon didn't care how his mate came by them - they were one hundred percent tobacco - guaranteed to bring the team to its knees.

He stood up then and threw his stub of a cigarette to the ground, grinding it under his heel. Reaching in behind the seat, he pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper. With a friendly smile on his face, he headed down the hill to the unsuspecting lads.

 **xxx**

'Ooooh...I'm dying, I tell you. Ooooh...'

Anna sat straight up in bed. _That voice?_ Did she dream it? _No, there it was again_. She hesitated only a moment before climbing out of bed, donning her robe and slippers. She stepped outside her door and listened. _Where did those mournful sounds come from?_

Concerned and more than a little frightened, Anna quietly rapped on Jane's door, directly across the wide hall from where she stood and entered. 'Janie, wake up!' she shook her friend. 'Something's happened.'

'Wha...? What's going on?' Jane propped herself up on her elbows. 'Anna?'

'Come with me. I heard someone cry out that they were dying! Now, Jane!'

That was all Jane needed to hear. She was up in a flash, grabbing her robe from its hook and on second thought, reaching under her bed for her tennis racket. 'Protection,' she said when Anna looked at her strangely. 'I'd better get my torch too.'

'Or we could just turn up the hall lights,' Anna offered, as she opened the bedroom door.

'Right. We could do that too.'

They had no more than closed the door behind them when they heard a low moaning coming from the west wing, at the end of the hall. The boy's wing. Someone was clearly in pain. Anna hurriedly crossed over to the main switch and turned the lights up on that end of the hallway. That's when they saw him.

Slouched down against the wall, at the entrance to that wing, his head flopped over to one side, was Louis, one of the teenage residents. As soon as the lights came on he raised his head and called out weakly, 'Help us.'

Anna and Jane didn't waste a minute, running down to kneel on either side of the boy. They were relieved not to see any blood or evidence of physical injury. There wasn't a crazed murder in the building, at least.

'He's been sick,' Anna pointed to the trail of vomit coming from the teen boy's bedroom. 'He was trying to get to the bathroom.' As she was saying the words, Louis began making retching sounds. 'Quick, grab a trash basket!' she cried.

Jane dashed into the bedroom and came back in the nick of time to kneel down and catch Louis' sick. 'He's not the only one. We've got a whole room full of them.' Just then, a ghostly white looking Philip emerged from the hall bathroom, with the help of Teddy, who appeared to be fine.

After lowering his friend to the floor, he turned to the women, 'Don't tell Sr. Madeleine, please, don't tell Sister, Miss,' he begged his teacher, Jane. 'They didn't mean any harm. We were just excited about the match, and he said it would calm them down.'

'Who did?' prodded Anna, 'Who gave you alcohol?'

'Oh, not me Miss.' the dark skinned boy explained. 'And it wasn't alcohol. It was cigars. He tried to get me too, but I don't like smoking.'

'But who offered you the cigars, Teddy?' Anna insisted.

Teddy looked at the women with a pained expression and lowered his head, 'I can't say, Miss Smith. I gave my word.'

'Will you stay here with your friends, Teddy? Keep that basket handy. We don't need any more mess than we already have. I need to check on the other boys,' Jane said, rising from the floor.

Anna nodded her head, 'Yes, and I'll run down to the nursery to wake Sr. Mary Rose. She's a nurse. Maybe she can give us something to help them.'

'Don't tell Sr. Madeleine. She'd never let us play in the match tomorrow,' the poor boy repeated.

'Or ever again, probably,' Anna shook her head. 'All right, Teddy. As long as she doesn't wake up, we'll try to keep it from her. Since her room's in the east wing, there's a chance she won't hear anything. I'm going to get help now. Keep the noise down, okay?'

 **x**

Anna eased open the nursery door, not wanting to disturb the young ones and was surprised to see a housecoat-clad Father John. He was sitting in one of the rocking chairs, lulling a fussy toddler to sleep. How natural he looked, in the role of a _father._

'Anna? What is it?' he whispered, rising from the chair as she neared. 'What's happened?'

'Several of the boys have come down ill. Nothing serious, I think, but I need to speak to Sr. Mary Rose.'

John turned and placed the child he was holding back in his cot. 'She was preparing a bottle for this teething little one, but it seems he doesn't need it now.'

At that moment, Sister came through the doorway of her tiny kitchenette, 'What's all this, then?' she asked.

'Anna says some of the boys have come down ill,' Father answered, nodding for her to continue.

'Yes, that's right. But, well, not ill exactly.' Both Sr. Mary Rose and Father John looked confused. Anna continued. 'I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Father, but in anticipation or celebration, maybe, of the match tomorrow, someone seems to have given them cigars and by the looks of them, they smoked the whole lot.'

Sr. Mary Rose shook her head and snickered into her ever-present handkerchief. 'Silly lads.'

' _Very_ ill?' Father asked quietly.

'They'll live, but very, yes,' Anna returned with a nod of her head.

'The _whole_ team?'

'All but Teddy, Father. I'm sorry.'

Father shook his head. 'Probably not as sorry as they are, Anna,' he said with a slow, sad smile. 'Well, does Sister Madeleine know? If she doesn't yet, I think it's for the best we don't mention it to her, if at all possible.'

'That's what we thought too, and Teddy begged us not to.' Anna turned to Sr. Mary Rose, 'Sister, I know she's your superior, but...'

'Nonsense! I agree with you. What she doesn't know won't kill her and like as not, she'd lock those young beggars in their room for all eternity if she found out. Besides, we have more urgent things to deal with than her temper tantrums tonight. We need to do some hocus pocus on that team of yours, Father. Get them back in fighting spirit for their match tomorrow.'

'What? You think there's a chance? I mean, what we're most concerned about is getting them well again, of course, but I know how important this game is to them. Do you honestly think we can get them back on their feet?' Father said with a gleam of hope in his eyes. _Truth be told, this game meant a lot to him too._

'I do,' answered Sister. 'I need to stay here with the little ones, but Anna, you can do this. I assume they're already vomiting?'

Anna nodded in the affirmative.

'Good, then we don't have to induce it. Now what they have is simple nicotine poisoning. We need to keep them hydrated - plenty of water and juice. And run down to the kitchen and get a box of sugar cubes. Put them under their tongues and let them dissolve.'

'That's it?' Father John perked up.

'That's it; they'll be right as rain. The symptoms should pass quickly. They'll be no worse for wear, and the scamps will have learned a valuable lesson they'll long remember. But don't forget the sugar. That's most important. Let me get back to my babies now.' Sister went to check on each and every one and then seated herself in the rocker Father had vacated.

'Thank you, Sister, I'll just go find the sugar. Goodnight, Father.' Anna adjusted her robe more tightly around her and was heading to the door when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

'I'm coming too, Anna.'

 **x**

 _1:15 am_

The sugar cubes and hydration seemed to have done the trick. All of the boys were now sound asleep. Their bedding was changed, and the messes cleaned up. Anna had opened the windows in the west wing hallway and the bedroom. A good airing out was found to be in order. Sister Mary Rose had been correct in her diagnosis, and it appeared that after a few solid hours of sleep the team would indeed be as right as rain and able to play in tomorrow's, or rather, today's game.

There had been no lectures on the evils of tobacco or queries about where the cigars came from. There would be time enough for that later. Besides, it didn't seem likely anyone would be smoking again anytime soon, if ever.

Jane leant against the doorframe, taking in her sleeping pupils, a pile of dirty bedding in her arms. 'We've done everything we can here, I think. I'm going to toss these down the laundry chute and go to bed while we still have a few hours of the night left. Father, Anna, I'll see you at breakfast.' She turned to leave, then looked back. 'Maybe.'

John watched as Anna soothed her hand over Philip's brow and pulled the covers up a little higher over Teddy. 'They look so innocent when you see them like this. They're good boys. We raise very good children here,' she murmured.

'There is certainly no lack of love in this place.' John had walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, steering her toward the door. 'The rest of the night should be quiet. It's time you got back to bed too.' He followed her out into the hallway and partially pulled the door closed behind him, his hand remaining on the doorknob.

Anna looked up at him in the low-lit passage, her eyes pausing on the dark patch of hair spilling from the neck of his pyjamas. He was watching her intently. 'Anna? You're exhausted. Go to bed.'

She brought her hand to her face and felt the warmth radiating there. 'I will,' she said after catching her breath, 'But you too, Father. You need to sleep too.'

He smiled and nodded his head, 'Yes, and I will, but I think I'll stay here the rest of the night. I noticed an extra fold-up cot in the closet. I'd sleep better knowing they're not alone...just in case. Thank you, Anna, for...for everything. Now go bed. We have a big day tomorrow.' With that, he turned and quietly re-entered the bedroom.

 **xxx**

 _Game Day!_

It was late July and with it came immense heat. The sun was high in the sky, two hours past midday, and a crowd of people gathered on the hillside in all manner of Summer dress. At the centre, almost like an ancient Greek amphitheatre, an old football pitch was being checked over for the millionth time, making sure the grass was perfect; perfect for a no more than amateur game. An amateur game that was an important happening for this village of Whitby. The event was well juiced. There were stands where you could place bets, buy drinks, popcorn, and candy floss. Parents could be heard bragging about the splendid players they had raised.

The spectators were sitting on blankets they had spread across the hillside, or milling around visiting with their neighbours. Behind them, nearer the top of the hill, a line of young men stood, smoking and whistling down to the field.

The Blessed Virgin constituency was seated on several blankets, under the spread of a big horse chestnut tree. The non-footballers, the teachers and nuns alike enjoying the early anticipation of the game, while the players were down on the pitch, getting ready to play. The toddlers and Sister Mary Rose had arrived in a small pony wagon, driven by Brian and Molly O'Hara, the little one's legs still too short to walk long distances.

'Make way for the Popcorn Man.' The voice of Father John caught everyone's attention. His arms were full of large bags of buttered popcorn. Young Jeremy Kent followed close behind him, helping the priest with more bags and his walking stick. 'Who wants popcorn?'

'Popcorn!' the children cheered, waving their hands energetically in the air. 'Me! Me! Me!'

'We're sharing, all right? I can't buy the whole popcorn cart.' He smiled winking at his boys and girls. For the most part, they were a happy bunch, but he'd not seen them happier than they were today. It warmed his heart.

'You're the Popcorn King, Father,' one of the girls giggled at him as he handed her a bag to share with her friends.

'Am I now?' He patted the girl's hair gently, while Jeremy took charge of handing out the other bags. 'Well, thank you for such an honourable title, Miss Maddox. Very honoured.' Then turning to Jeremy, 'Now go give a couple of bags to the Sisters, son.'

Jeremy headed over to where the nuns and kitchen staff were sitting. The Sisters sat together, watching over the younger children and the toddlers, who were happily crawling on the grass. The boy handed them two bags of popcorn. Just the next blanket over sat Sr Louise and Mrs. Patmore; Sister Madeleine stood behind them, rather menacingly.

Jeremy reluctantly offered Sister a bag of popcorn, only for she to look down her nose at him and huff, 'No! I don't want any of his silly popcorn and furthermore - .' But the boy had turned away before she could finish, unwilling to waste even a second of his time on the likes of her evil self.

'Hold on there boy! Not so fast.' It was Mrs. Patmore calling him back. 'She may not want any of his popcorn, but we'll have some, won't we Sr Louise?' and then under her breath, Jeremy heard her say, 'No doubt she thinks popcorn would be too much fun, God forbid…'

The boy took a certain amount of comfort in that remark as he handed Mrs. Patmore a bag with a slight smile playing on his lips.

'You tell Father, Mrs. P says thank you; there's a good boy. Now run along and have fun.'

After Jeremy was out of earshot Mrs. Patmore rounded on Sister Madeleine, 'Would you please sit down and quit hovering like an old crow.'

Sister Madeleine glared at the cook. 'How dare you speak to me like that,' she hissed.

'Oh, I do dare, Gertrude Poovey!' For that was indeed her secular name. 'I've known you nearly my entire life. You never were Miss Sunshine, but you're getting worse every day. Now you sit down here and at least act like you're enjoying yourself.'

Surprisingly, Sister Madeleine did sit down, but she was anything but happy. 'Just look at him!' She motioned broadly toward Father John, who at that just that moment shrugged off his jacket, removed his collar and was rolling up his sleeves to above his elbows. 'He looks more like a reveller than a priest. And now the man is disrobing in public!''

'It's hot, and he's hardly disrobing. And for goodness sake, I reckon being a priest doesn't mean one has to be frowning all the time,' Sister Louise spoke up, her expression more than a little censoring, that her superior understood too well. 'He's especially good with the little ones.'

'He's a saint, more like,' Mrs. Patmore smiled, watching as Father made sure all children were sharing their treats.

'Blasphemy.' Sister Madeleine turned to her with an angry frown. 'To call a man like him a saint.'

'Why, Sister?' Sister Mary Rose insisted. 'Because he's a mortal man? How many saints were sinners... all of them.'

'I'm not sure I want to know the answer, but I feel compelled to ask anyway if you're so determined to have a miserable time, why did you even come today?' Mrs. Patmore asked.

'Because, Beryl Patmore, someone has to keep an eye on what he does and how he acts. The Bishop will be coming to visit any day now, and he'll want a thorough accounting.'

Mrs. Patmore just threw back her head and sighed, 'Oh Lordy!'

 **x**

'And...I bought one for you and Miss Moorsum.' John sat down next to Anna, handing her a bag of buttered popcorn. He was struck by how young and fresh she looked in her grass green sleeveless shirt and white shorts, and for a moment, he couldn't help but look at her bare legs. But only for a moment, so fast she didn't even notice.

'Thank you, Father,' she smiled at him, taking the snack in her hands, before looking back to where her friend had been seated. 'Jane? Oh! Where is she?'

John pointed ahead, 'Over there, talking to those lads.'

Anna looked, and the scene she saw made her shake her head and smile.

'Isn't that her cousin?' he asked.

'Well…' she lifted her shoulders, sure he would understand her response. 'Only to Sister Madeleine.'

'Ah, I see…' he chuckled, shaking his head as well. _Oh, to be young and carefree...to be free_.

'We can share, the two of us,' she offered then, shaking his thoughts away, thoughts that seemed to wash over him out of the blue of late.

'Thank you,' John accepted her offer, taking a handful from of the bag. 'It's nice in here, isn't it…' he sighed, 'Really nice.' Families together, children playing, people just being happy, truly at peace.

In the distance, across the pitch, he spotted a group of men in T-shirts and jeans, some with the latest haircut, the flattop, all with greasy gelled hair, all smoking. 'Isn't that Gordon?'

'Yes,' Anna nodded, her mood shifting enough for him to notice. 'That's him.'

'Why isn't he here with you?' he asked, purely out of curiosity.

'He's rooting for the enemy.' She managed a smile, and he joined her. 'And he's hanging out with his mates. How are the team?'

John looked over at her, understanding the cue to change the subject. 'I spoke to them before the popcorn man nearly bankrupted me.' Anna laughed at his words. 'I gave them an uplifting speech, told them that winning isn't everything, although I will let them stay-lights on until ten for the next two days if they win.'

'You didn't!'

'I certainly did! Let me confess something to you, Miss Smith, I'm rather competitive. They're fine, they'll play well, I know it.'

'What about the…' she looked around to make sure no one would hear. 'The punishment for last night?'

'They've been punished enough already, I think. A night of vomiting and headaches is no fun. They know it's wrong, I told them so, and they promised they wouldn't do it again.'

'And who gave them the cigars?'

'No word about that, yet. They know how to keep a secret.'

'They do... Look at those girls. Sitting in the full sun, working on a very painful burn. Girls? Come out of the sun,' Anna gestured toward them.'Come on...sit here with me and Father John.'

' _Oh no! Did you hear what Miss Smith said?' Cynthia looked over at her friends, her eyes big in anticipation._

' _I don't want to sit with them, though,' Pam shook her head growing a bit nervous._

' _Don't be daft, why not?' Karen rolled her eyes, preparing to tease her friend as she often did. 'Are you afraid Father John will pull you in for a smooch?'_

' _Stop it!' Pamela exclaimed exasperatedly, while the others giggled._

'Girls?' Anna called them again. 'Come on, please, you are going to catch too much sun.'

'Only to catch too much _sin_ ,' whispered Judith.

'I swear, one day I will rip a handful of your bleached hair out by the roots,' Pam told her as they stood from the grass and walked toward the priest and the teacher.

'I don't bleach my hair! Well... only _once_ …'

'Sit down, girl's,' Father said, tapping the blanket next to him. 'Here, sit down...the shade feels wonderful on a hot day like this.'

The girls stood there, staring at the spot Father John offered to them. They would all fit, right between him and the tree, but the question was, who was going to sit right next to him?

'All right,' Karen nodded rather nervously, pulling her friend Pam into the trap. 'Let's sit, Pam. You first.'

And poor Pamela sat down, without much of a choice. Her elbows squeezed tightly against her sides, her position quite awkward, trying hard not to come in touch with the oh so handsome, Father John. She feared she would faint if she did.

'All comfortable?' Anna asked, and the girls nodded silently.

'Popcorn?' Father then offered, his hand stretching out, holding one of the popcorn bags. When he accidently touch Pam's arm, she jumped like she had been burnt.

'Thank you, Father,' Judith took the bag, her hands a bit shaky.

'Do you have a favourite player today, hum?' He tried to make small talk, knowing well he was probably the reason the girls were acting so oddly. He was rather unsure of what to say as well. 'James perhaps?'

'Ew!' Brenda wrinkled her nose. 'Only for Pam.'

'Not for me! I don't even like James.'

'And why not?' he asked. 'James is a nice boy.'

'Because she loves him,' Karen said.

'I certainly don't!' Pam defended herself, crossing her arms with force.

'Well, but he does you, and when you love someone, you just can't like them. You know what I mean, don't you, Father?' Karen asked, thinking herself the wisest of the group.

'Umm, I don't think I do.'

'Because boys go all _cuckoo_ , and they turn stupid.' She pointed to her forehead and rolled her eyes.

'I see…' Father nodded, remembering too well what being a boy was like. They were right, more than right. Then he heard a giggle to his left and turned to see Anna trying to suppress it against her hands. ' _What?_ ' he asked her with a confused grin.

'Nothing.'

' _Tell me_.'

'It's _nothing_ …Jane! Finally! Father bought popcorn for us.'

'Oh good, I love popcorn. You are the best thing that's ever happened to us, Father! Thank you.'

Father John nodded shyly, looking down at his hands. The warmth of the day was making him sweat. Wearing black in summer was never a good idea. Since he couldn't take much more off, he settled for unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, flapping it to get the air circulating down the front.

To his right he heard the girls whisper, there were giggles and shushes, and he felt certain it was directed toward him. He felt his face turn red.

'Don't mind them,' Anna assured him, touching his bare forearm ever so gently he barely had time to process it. Touches like this were foreign to him. It had been such a long time. How could a gesture so small could be so strong?

'I feel out of my element with them,' he confessed with a sheepish smile. 'As I've said, I never dealt with girls this age, or any other...age.'

She felt the strain in his words, and it made her wonder. Maybe it was the look on his face, his eyes bright and filled with longing. A thought had been there, in the back of his mind. Something he couldn't share with her. She wanted to know, but she would never ask. Not like this.

'Don't…' she continued. 'They're teenagers. All of them had or have a crush on a superior; it's normal. Give them time and it will go away.'

'All of them? You mean, all girls? Don't you tell me you ever had a crush on a priest, Miss Smith.'

His question was only meant as a joke, but in this situation, it took both by surprise. _Why? They didn't know. Why did John ask something like that? Why did Anna take so long to answer?_ Behind them, Jane heard the conversation, and in her very own subtle way, she managed to kick her friend's back. That was enough for Anna to be able to speak again.

'No...I never did.'

He smiled and turned to face the pitch; the game was about to start, and the teams were taking their positions. He saw James flicking his hair back and chancing a flirty look toward the group of girls sitting next to him. That made him smile, but in the next moment he felt watched, read like a book, and from the corner of his eye, he knew it was Anna. Her presence made him feel a million things all at once. Then, he looked over, and their gaze met and locked, as it had happened so many times before, as it would happen thousands of times again. Another moment turned into something more; the shade made her eyes look grey, and he found out he adored every version of her, like something he could have never imagined even possible.

The sound of the whistle broke the spell, and just like that; they were Father John and Miss Smith again. No more, no less, but only on the outside.

 **x**

'I can't believe they're winning!' John clapped his hands together after another scored goal. The first half of the game was around ten minutes in and the result was two/nil; his boys were winning. 'Run Teddy, run! Take that ball out of there!'

'Are you surprised?' Anna asked him, her eyes on the game. Behind them, people shouted to the pitch, some in their favour, others against. 'I thought you said they were bound to win,' she smiled.

'Well, yes but...after last night - It's ours! That ball is ours,' he yelled at the field.

One of the village boys had kicked the ball out, and it landed near where the Orphanage crowd was sitting. Without losing a second, James came running to get the ball, his eyes never leaving Pam's and with a cocky expression on his face, he brought one hand to his hair and slicked it back as was his way.

'He's looking at you, Pam,' said Brenda, elbowing her friend in the ribs.

'I can see that, Brenda.' Pamela replied, smiling back at her younger crush.

'Give him ten years and he'll be a real looker, you'll see,' Karen remarked. 'They all look better with ten more years on them.'

At that, John and Anna couldn't help but share a look and a laugh, and Pam turned bright red as a tomato.

'Ugh, somebody take this popcorn away from me…' Jane voiced from behind them. 'I ate the whole bag, almost.'

'Give it here, we'll eat the rest,' Anna said, taking the bag and offering it to Father John.

The game proceeded. It's never over until it's over, but the crowd had a sense of the way this was going to go. Most of the village men began to count the money in their pockets. But then one more goal was scored, the first for the Whitby boys and John had to hold back a curse, to set a good example.

Sister Madeleine was the only one grimacing, particularly when Father voiced his frustrations toward the pitch.

' _Good Lord in heaven...put some sense in that man's brain. Oh, what a scene.'_

The interval came fifteen minutes later, and the Orphanage boys ran up for water and a ten minutes rest. While they all sat down and wiped the sweat off their brows, Father John huddled with them and gave them encouragement and advice for the second half.

'...and you, Louis, you have to assist Oscar, all right? Always.'

'Yeah, I will, Father.' The thirteen-year-old nodded energetically at his words.

'Good. You are doing a fantastic job, lads. If we keep it up, we're winning this easily. Now rest and catch your breath.'

He walked back to his place next to Anna again, watching as the boys talked amongst each other, planning moves for the remainder of the match.

'Looking good?' she asked him as he sat down.

'Looking great! They're going to win this,' he smiled, his voice full of energy.

Not two minutes later Anna looked over to find him stretched out beside her on their blanket, ankles crossed and arms behind his head, dead to the world. His late night seemed to have caught up with him rather suddenly. He looked so comfortable she longed to join him, her head resting on his chest and his arm around her shoulder. Anna closed her eyes, just imagining it all -

'Hee-haw! Get him, mates!' The cry was raised as Father John's players all pounced on top of him. 'Wake up, Father!' they laughed. 'We're about to win this thing!'

Father put a couple of the boys into a head holds, wrestling the rest of them off of him, joining in their laughter. 'Don't get too brash; you haven't won it yet. Just keep your heads about you,' he warned them as the whistle blew for the second half. 'Now go get 'em, lads!' And all the players ran to the field to the cheers of the crowd.

Sister Madeleine watched Father John with disgust. _Oh yes, she would have plenty to report to the Bishop._

 **x**

Time seemed to slow during the second half. The heat of the day was not helping, the direction in which the sun was setting made the pitch light up like an ember. It was a beautiful sight at the same time. The grass was kissed with gold in the late afternoon; some people nodded off under the shade of the trees. Children licked their ice creams. Birds became bold, hopping around amongst the people in search for picnic crumbs.

Little Alice had joined them, sitting beside Anna and holding on to the hem of the teacher's shorts. Jeremy was alone, as usual, laying on the soft grass, reluctant to share anything with the others, even the same bit of shade; after handing out the bags of popcorn he had distanced himself from his peers. ' _Come sit with us, Jeremy,'_ Father John had offered at some point, but the boy had only shaken his head and remained where he was, no other word had been exchanged.

 **x**

The sound of the teen girl's' squeals drew Father's attention. Karen was holding a dandelion under Brenda's chin saying 'Do you like boys, Bren?' Do you?'

Brenda was having none of her friend's silliness as she brushed her hand away. She was a year older than the others. She'd be out there in the real world in a couple of months, attending Nursing school in York on a scholarship offered by the Church. 'Oh grow up, Karen,' and she rose from the ground and moved to sit by her teacher, Miss Moorsum, whom she considered the height of sophistication.

Then he heard little Alice, snuggled up to Anna's side, say, 'Do me, Miss Smith,' with a shy smile.

'Well let me find a dandelion,' Anna said, looking around on the ground near them.

Father John spotted one on his right, between him and the girls and pinched it off by the stem, holding it out to Anna. Before she could take it, Alice leant over her and held her face up to him. 'You can do it, Father,' she said with a giggle.

'May I?' and he held the flower under her chin. He was charmed by these little people. 'Do you like boys, Miss Alice?' he asked, seeing the yellow dandelion reflected against her skin. 'Why, it appears you do! Look, Miss Smith. Our Alice can't deny it. She likes boys.'

Alice buried her smiling face in Anna's chest, but for just a minute, then she begged, 'Do Miss Smith, Father. Do Miss Smith now.'

He watched, rather uncomfortably as Anna turned and lifted her chin to him, toward the sunlight. Her eyes were closed. Slowly, he raised the flower, tickling her neck with its petals. He saw her shiver. 'Yes, Alice. Miss Smith likes...'

'She does! She does! Miss Smith like boys too!' Alice cried out, for once her shyness disappearing, thrilled she had something in common with her most favourite teacher ever.

In that same moment, one of the little ones came crawling toward them, squealing to call their attention.

'Why Hello, Joey.' Father John smiled down at the almost two years old Joseph, who carried a mushed-up daisy in his hand. He stopped before Father and giving him the flower. 'Is that for me?'

Joey nodded with a big smile, drooling over his pacifier.

'And what about one for Miss Smith?' Father encourage. 'Can you find one for her?'

The boy immediately looked over at Anna and was quick to inspect the grass in search for another flower. 'Flower, flower...' he sang until he spotted another one.

'Thank you, darling.' Anna took the flower Joey handed her, pointing at her cheek as he did. 'Give me a kiss?'

Joey nodded again, taking the pacifier out of his mouth to place a wet kiss on her cheek. Before he could turn away, Anna pulled him onto her lap; the little boy went willingly in a fit of giggles.

'I love babies…' she said, kissing Joey's forehead, as he sat on her legs, yawning. 'Are you sleepy, my darling?'

'I'm afraid it's time for their nap.' John was smiling at Anna and the little boy's interaction. 'Look.' He pointed to the three toddlers sleeping on the blanket beside Sister Rose; Rosie, Peter and Wendy.

'Come here, Joey, my dear, leave Miss Smith in peace.' The Sister spoke, with that always so gentle smile. She was indeed the right person to care for the little ones.

'Oh, I am at peace, Sister Rose,' Anna assured her as Joey allowed himself to settle comfortably in her arms. 'Let him stay here; it's fine.'

The kind sister nodded, turning to the other sleeping babes with all the love and care worthy of a true mother. Soon enough, Joey joined the others in the land of dreams, rocked by the teacher and watched over by the priest.

The boy slept soundly in Anna's arms, his mouth half opened against her chest, drooling on the fabric of her shirt. His breathing whistled rhythmically, and the dark curls on his head moved with the slight breeze.

The scene was magic. John's memory was taking him back to places he wished not to visit now. She was watching the match with a smile, her body rocked the child ever so softly without even thinking, Alice at her left, leaning against her shoulder, and he allowed himself to stay there, in the moment, as innocently as he could. But how could it be any different? Children, a woman, a lovely afternoon. The sound of the birds, the happy laughter of the crowd, the sun lowering on the horizon.

There was another goal, three for one, and the end of the game would happen in less than five minutes. It had been a glorious day.

 **x**

'I hope you didn't put all your money on the village boys,' Father John joked, shaking Gordon's hand. The game was over; the result hadn't changed. Everyone was gathering for one last chat before heading home.

'Ha, no!' Gordon laughed louder than expected. 'I'm no fool, Father,' he said, chancing a look at Anna, who was standing next to the priest; her arms folded, looking anywhere but at him.

'I'm sure you're not,' Father nodded with a smile.

'Your boys played pretty well…' Gordon continued genially, but inside he was seething. 'I was surprised when I saw them fit to play.'

At that, Anna looked up at him, immediately suspicious. 'What do you mean?'

'What?' He faced her, his ears turning red. Father John was trying to understand what was going on. 'I mean...I've seen them... training and...I didn't think they were this good.'

'Father John has been working with them,' Anna eyed her boyfriend, pausing when she spied the cigar in his breast pocket. 'He used to play.'

'Many, many years ago,' John added.

'Yeah…back in the day, huh,' Gordon looked pointedly down at Father's cane. 'Well, I'm going now,' he said placing a loud, awkward kiss on Anna's cheek.

'Bye,' was her response.

'See you Wednesday? It's my day off.'

Their conversation was making Father John feel a bit strange, like the third wheel of a handcart, but for some reason, he couldn't make himself walk away. He stayed to listen.

'I have to go to the farm on Wednesday,' Anna replied, and the priest immediately knew she was lying. 'It's my day to go,' she insisted, chancing a look at John; her eyes told him not to say a word.

'Can't Jane go?' Gordon suggested, running his hand over his greased up flattop.

'She wouldn't want to; she hates farms.'

'Fine, but we'll have dinner, right? Remember we have a table at the pub for that night?'

'Yes…' she managed a half smile. 'Of course.' That smile may have fooled Gordon, but Father John saw her desperation.

After that Gordon left with his mates, laughing and acting far younger than his twenty-eight years. Behind, John and Anna stayed together, while up ahead, the children and nuns formed the line walking back to the Orphanage.

'Let's go? I'm starving.' John grinned at her, trying to lift her mood to where it had been before Gordon walked up.

'I am too,' she smiled back at him. 'I'm more than ready for whatever Mrs. Patmore has planned for dinner.'

'She's is a terrific cook.'

'Father, Father John!' The victorious team ran to the back of the line toward them.

'Sister Madeleine won't like you out of the line, lads,' he told them, and they all wrinkled their faces, one or two even pulled their tongues out to make their point.

'Will you keep your promise, Father?'

'My promise?' He pretended not to know what they meant.

'Can we turn the lights off one hour later for two nights?' Teddy asked in a begging tone.

'Oh, that promise! Starting tonight?'

The boys nodded.

'Aren't you all tired?'

They shook their heads no.

'All right then! Starting tonight. A promise is a promise. Now go hop back in line before Sister notices.'

'You are so good for them. You won their hearts the moment you arrived. It's lovely to see,' Anna told him as soon as the boys returned to the line.

'They won my heart as well...this whole place did. You're lucky to be from such a beautiful area, with such beautiful people.'

'And we're lucky to have you.'

'Thank you, Anna.'

'Thank you, Father, for not telling on me. I know lying is awful but…' she shrugged her shoulders.

He nodded, smiling. 'You should be more concerned about the reasons behind your lie.'

They walked back home together, at the end of the line. The crescent moon coming into view. Birds silent, darkness falling over the landscape. Everyone would sleep well this night and the dreams would come, yet again.

 **xxx**

'Son? What is it you want to confess?' Father John asked through the grill of the wooden confessionary - on the other side was Alf Jones, the junior caretaker. He had been nervous when approaching Father earlier in the morning before mass, fiddling with his hands and refusing to meet his eyes, asking if he could confess after the service was over. Now, silence prevailed between the two, and the priest waited for Alf to speak.

'Well…' Alf sighed, unsure of how to begin, and although Father John couldn't see him, he knew the young man was nervous. 'Father, the thing is...you see, I like this girl from the village. Susan Baker. I like her very much.'

Father smiled to himself. 'Liking someone is not a sin, son. I reckon that's not what your confession is about, right?'

'We've kissed, Father. Like...for a loooong time.'

The priest fought to hold back a chuckle. 'If your intentions are the best ones, then...I don't see the problem. Provided she likes you back.'

'Yeah, that's the problem, she's got a boyfriend already.'

'I see…'

'It was a stolen kiss, Father. I got slapped afterwards and all.' Alf blushed away from the priest's eyes, but inside the confessionary, Father could feel the embarrassment of the young man.

'Well, you got your punishment, and well deserved too, son.'

'I know, but I love her. I don't know what to do.'

'Alf, sometimes what we feel, what we want, is not enough. I believe that if you two were meant to be together, she would like you back. You have to move on, one day you'll find the perfect girl for you,' Father John advised.

'I don't think I will, Father,' the young man moaned miserably. 'I'm not very clever, my looks are not the best, and I'm clumsy, you've seen me. Mr. Rivers says I'm just a mess with legs.'

'No, don't say that, Alf. You can't think so low of yourself. It won't do you any good, and with time, you start believing it. You're a good lad, a hard worker, loyal, someone people can trust, and I hope you never force a girl to kiss you ever again, so they can also call you a noble man.'

'I won't, Father. I promise.'

Father John nodded with a smile. He was sure Alf Jones would keep his promise. 'All right, you may go now.'

'Won't you give me a penitence, Father? For kissing a girl against her will? I want to be absolved. I don't want to burn in hell when I die.'

'Well, you got slapped, didn't you? And you should apologise to her if you haven't already. A couple of prayers won't make you regret it twice. Go on, now, I...I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.' Inside the confessionary, Father John made the sign of the cross. 'May God help you in your decisions and actions and bless you every day.'

'Thank you, Father, very much. Have a good day.'

John pinched the bridge of his nose. Before leaving the confessionary, a deep sigh escaped from between his lips. Somehow, for some odd, and probably very wrong reason, he felt bad when hearing people's confessions. He felt like an intruder, someone hearing from behind a door something they shouldn't in the first place. He didn't feel any divine power overtaking him while giving the confessioners a penalty for their acts. It was a weird feeling, to absolve someone from their own sins, especially because...how could he promote a sinless life when his own had been no different than any mortal man, quite the opposite, he had been nothing but a sinner. He felt like a liar, an unclean man trying to clean the world around him. _How was that even right? Would God give him that power?_ Deep inside he didn't think so, and that was one of the reasons why he was so understanding, so _forgiving_.

His thoughts were shut down when he stopped by the chapel door, facing the suggestion box he had put there a couple of weeks ago. It caught his attention because of the pieces of paper spilling from it. It was so packed full it would be impossible to add any more. _When did this happen?_ he asked himself. _How had he not noticed it before today?_

'Blimey,' he whispered with a big grin. 'I can see this was a good idea.'

John itched to open it but it wouldn't, not yet. Taking the box in his hands, he went in search of someone.

He walked down the main hallway, still carrying the box and ran into Jane and Sr Mary Josephine coming down the stairs, their arms filled with stacks of books. 'Oh Sister, Miss Moorsum, have you seen Miss Smith?'

'Yes, Father, she's up in her room,' answered Jane. 'If you need her you can go up and knock on her door. I'd do that for you, but we're a little busy here.'

He hesitated.

'Oh go on, it's okay,' Jane prodded him with a grin.

'Um, right, I can do that, of course,' he replied with a gulp.

 **x**

' _Anna?_ ' The teacher heard a soft knock on her bedroom door, followed by his low voice. ' _Are you there?'_

'Father!' She jumped off her bed, leaving the book she was reading behind, and ran to the door, opening it with a welcoming, shy smile. 'Please, come in.'

'No need, really, I just thought…' He showed her the box. 'Let's open it?'

'Oh my Lord, is it full already?'

'To the brim!'

'Marvelous! Let me just…' she ran inside the room again, leaning down to take her shoes from under the bed. 'I don't like to be in here with my shoes on,' she smiled toward the open door, as she put them on.

For that brief moment, John managed to take a look of her room. It was a happy place, as she was, bright and girly. Yellow wallcovering with pink roses. A white wrought iron bed covered in a deep rose spread. A whimsical red chair with a heart-shaped pillow. There were country flowers on her nightstand and drawings made by the children hanging on the walls. Two large windows overlooked the back of the Orphanage, the garden, the path he took almost every night for his walks. _Has she ever seen me?_ he wondered, but before he could think too much on the matter, she was walking past him and asking where they would make the big revelations.

'I want to open it in the kitchen. I think Mrs. P will enjoy it too.' John told her with a wink. 'It'll be fun for all of us, I'm sure!'

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:** The Bishops visits._

 ** _Thank you for reading :)_**


	7. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** Good evening everyone! We want to thank you all for your support. It's so much fun to write this fic and even better when we see you enjoying it so much :D _

_Hope you like this new chapter! Let us know in the reviews xXx Terrie & Handy_

 _ **Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1-5._

* * *

 _ **Blessed** ~ Chapter 6_

 **x**

 _Show mercy to those who have doubts._

 _Jude 1:22_

 **x**

Laughter spilt through the swinging kitchen door and out into the hallway. Father John sat with Mrs Patmore to his right, followed by Sr Josephine and Ivy, and Anna on his left. They were all surprised by the amount of folded papers spilling out of the suggestion box.

'This was a brilliant idea, Father,' Anna said. 'We should have done it ages ago.'

'Yes, someone should have _suggested_ it,' he returned with a grin. 'Speaking of which, do you have a suggestion in here, Anna? Do any of you?'

'None that she'll own up to, I reckon. Moving along now, my turn!' The cook grabbed one of the suggestions, clearing her throat, 'Oh, and this one is for me…

' _Mrs Patmore should add more cheese to the cheese sandwiches, and butter too.'_

'More cheese? Why maybe I'll start adding a bit of bread instead!'

Father John chuckled, 'They're growing children, they get hungry, Mrs P.'

'They're bottomless pits, more like! Two slices per sandwich, that's one slice more than last year,' the cook proclaimed.

'Next!' Anna interrupted, reaching for one of the pieces of paper. 'Oh yes, I like this one!

' _Dear Father John,_

 _We, Brenda, Judith, Pamela, Karen and Cynthia, would like to suggest the implementation of a night of dancing in our beloved Blessed Virgin. Maybe every Saturday? It would be such great fun, and everyone would love it! Miss Moorsum has said we could use her new turntable, and she has plenty of records so that it wouldn't cost anything. It would be just great if we were allowed some of the village teens too. We would like to thank you in advance for the time you will take to read this.'_

Anna giggled. 'I think the girls and Jane have been planning this one for awhile.

' _Implementation, our beloved Blessed Virgin, thank you in advance…?'_ Mrs P uttered, 'You can't say no to that, Father. Not after their sacrifice of swallowing the whole dictionary.'

Father John nodded with a smile. 'I do like the idea, actually. Maybe not every Saturday, but why not once a month? It would be fun, and after all, we have teenagers here, and teenagers need to dance, don't they? I've cut a rug in my younger years.'

'They certainly do,' Anna agreed, with the image of a dancing Father John flashing through her mind. 'And not just teenagers. I like the idea too.' Oh yes, she loved to dance. It would be quite fun to have a dance once a month.

'I know a certain someone who'll be hating it, though,' Mrs Patmore cocked her brow. 'She's sure to give you grief over it, Father. Even when she was a girl, she hated frivolity.'

'But not you, huh, Mrs P?' Father teased her.

'Me? If you're suggesting I am a froliker...you'd be right, Father,' the cook joked.

'Well, put it in the good ideas pile then…' Father handed the paper to Ivy. 'Is that our second one?'

'Yes, the first was the shutting off lights an hour later on Friday and Saturday,' Ivy replied.

'Oh Sister Madeleine won't like that one either, not one bit!' the cook huffed.

'Shutting the lights off at nine on weekends is too early…' Father John said, 'And they end up using their torches anyway.'

'That's true,' the other's agreed.

'I'm just saying she'll make a fuss out of it, so grand you will be forced to give in,' Mrs Patmore insisted.

'I won't, Mrs P. I certainly won't.'

'My turn next!' Ivy proclaimed, taking another suggestion from the box.

' _Me and my mates would like to spend a day at the beach because the beach is just there but we never go.'_

'They've never gone to the beach?' Father John asked the others with a surprised look on his face.

'Oh no, Sister Madeleine doesn't like the water,' Anna explained. 'And she says it's dangerous to take so many children.'

'It's a sin to live in such a beautiful place, with the countryside and beach, and these children spend most of their days at the Orphanage during the summer. But Sister is right. It would be a big undertaking. So many children to watch in the water.'

'Maybe not, if we don't take them all at once. What if we took them in groups of say, twenty? With you, Father, and Jane and me, and a couple of the sisters. You'd like to go wouldn't you Sr Josephine? There would be plenty of us to watch over them.' Anna was getting excited about the whole idea.

'You're right, Anna. Well then, we're definitely going to the beach!' Father said with determination.

'What's this?' Sister Madeleine came in; her arms already crossed in her standard defensive posture. 'Certainly not a tea party at this time of day?'

Mrs Patmore immediately rolled her eyes. The young women, Ivy and Sister Mary Josephine, froze. But Father John and Anna seemed not to mind the woman's presence at all.

'We're reading the suggestions, Sister,' Father replied. 'The box was full.'

'Again with that nonsense?' The old nun shook her head in disapproval. 'What could those children suggest that would be good enough for us to approve?'

'Well, there are a couple already, and I'm sure there will be more still,' he said, going through the ones they had picked. 'Lights out at ten on Friday and Saturday. A dance, one Saturday a month after dinner. A day at the beach.'

'And those are the good ones? Who made them think we would agree to...?' Sister Madeleine eyed the others.

'We did, Sister. That's the whole point,' Father replied.

'Lights off at ten?! A monthly dance? The beach?! This is an orphanage, not a house party.'

'Exactly, Sister. This is an Orphanage. We have children here, not convicted criminals. They need to have fun and play. They need to do what children are meant to do,' the priest persisted.

Sister could see he was not backing down. 'Whatever you say. You are in charge now, aren't you? But when things go bad, I'll be here to say I told you so. The Bishop won't like what you are doing.'

' _The Bishop?'_ Father questioned, puzzled, trying to understand what the old nun exactly meant.

'The Bishop. Just you wait,' she stated before walking out the kitchen door, leaving them alone again.

'What did she mean by that?' he wondered aloud, bringing a hand to run through his hair.

'Oh, she loves to write letters to her superiors about this and that,' Mrs Patmore muttered. 'She has a talent for stirring up trouble and filing complaints. That's what she does best.'

'I wouldn't be too worried about it,' Anna assured him, resting a hand on his arm. He smiled at her. 'Nothing's ever come of it, and I don't think most of her letters have ever been replied to.'

'I'm not worried,' he said. 'I just wish she would be more tolerant with the children.'

'I'm here to tell you, Gertrude Poovey was never a child, not even when she was born,' Mrs Patmore offered with a grimace.

'What do you mean? She was born old already?' Sister Josephine asked, confused.

'Oh yes, she was. In her soul.' The cook nodded before standing up from her chair. 'You stay there reading those while I peel some potatoes for dinner. Gotta get to work...I'm listening, though. And you two,' she pointed at her two helpers. 'Ten more minutes and you come help me. We have an army of little 'uns to feed.'

'All right, let's continue.' Father clapped his hands together. 'It's your turn, Sister Josephine.'

'Oh, yes!' The young nun took a random suggestion and began to read, but after the first couple of words, she turned red. 'I think…' she stammered, unable to look at the priest. 'I think this one is for you, Father.'

Everyone eyed him as he settled his readers on his nose. 'Let's see, hmm, my yes…' It was his turn to flush. 'Yes...thank you...er...next? Oh, that's me.'

 **xxx**

Isaiah Rivers, the head caretaker, cleared his throat and removed his cap. 'It's those rascals there, Father,' he began, glancing scoldingly toward the boys. 'They pee on the bushes, and it's killing them. The only reason I don't whack them with my rake is that they run too fast.'

This month's gathering had officially opened with a prayer. For the first time in the long-held tradition of monthly meetings at the Blessed Virgin Orphanage, the children had been invited to attend. Change was indeed taking place. Father John was now in charge, whereas before these meetings were overseen by the iron fist of Sister Madeleine. Now, he made sure everyone had the right to speak, to suggest and to discuss, and that included the children, as long as they were respectful. For the teen boys part, all they wanted was for it to be over and done with, but this would change once their priest made his special announcements.

'No need to whack anyone with your rake, Mr Rivers,' Father said, suppressing a chuckle.

'It's all these liberties…' Sister Madeleine grumbled from her chair near the front. The idea of being a mere member of the crowd making her particularly moody today. 'All these new liberties make them unable to see right from wrong.'

'Sister -'

'Actually…' Mr Rivers interrupted Father John because he wanted to add, 'The boys here have always done it, even with Father Benedict.'

Father nodded. 'And why do you do that, boys, hmm?' he asked the culprits.

'Not worth going inside just for a wee. It's faster to do it in the bushes, isn't it?' Philip replied, crossing his arms with a smirk.

'Be that as it may, it's still wrong, Philip, and you know that. And if I hear about it happening again, you will be punished.'

The boys looked at each other in shock. _Father John punishing them? He wouldn't, not really, would he?_

'Better still,' the priest continued. 'You said your bushes are dying because of their actions, didn't you Mr Rivers?'

The caretaker nodded with an angry frown.

'And I see that you and Alf have so much work to do...I think our boys here should start helping you. See how hard it is to keep a garden beautiful and well maintained. They'll value it more, and they won't want to pee on their own work ever again.'

'Oh yes!' Mr Rivers rubbed his hands together. 'That's a grand idea, all right!'

'Good. Starting tomorrow morning, you…' Father pointed to the older boys. '...will be our summer gardeners.'

'Oh no…' the teens whined, wrinkling their noses in complaint, but Father John had the last word on the matter, and it was time to move on.

The suggestion box had been opened earlier in the day, and it was time to discuss the ideas. Good ideas that everyone who was at the opening of the box was excited about. Everyone that is, except Sr Madeleine.

'All right then,' Father John continued, holding up some slips of paper. 'These are the suggestions from the box we have agreed can be (and with a nod and a wink to the teenage girls) _implemented_. Please try to hold your applause until I'm finished.

'Number one, we will have a monthly Saturday night dance, beginning in August, just a few days away.' The announcement brought a cheer from the group of girls who were sitting with their teacher, Miss Moorsum. They just couldn't help themselves. 'I've been informed Miss Moorsum has agreed to let us use her new turntable and impressive collection of records.' He nodded in Jane's direction.

'Number two, lights-out will now be at ten on Friday and Saturday, and for the teens, it will be moved to eleven on Saturday dance night.' Father looked up to see James and Teddy pump their fists in the air.

'Number three, and this one will be fun. In the month of August, we will be spending two days at the beach. And that includes sitting around a campfire roasting weenies!' Despite Father's request, this was met with whoops and hollers.

Sister couldn't keep quiet any longer, 'Now I really must object! It's entirely too dangerous to take almost fifty children to the water's edge and not expect something terrible to happen. Of all the foolish…'

Father held up his hand, effectively silencing her. 'Sister, I agree with you completely. Taking fifty children at once would be foolhardy, but, I do think seven adults can handle half that number. We simply take twenty or so of them one day, and the rest another. Not the little ones, of course. Now I suggest we take the first group next Wednesday and the second group on Thursday, and then again two weeks on. It's an easy walk, and it should be fun. You're welcome to come, Sister.'

'Not likely,' she huffed. 'And if anything should happen, anything at all, it will be on your head.'

'Of course, Sister. Now, next, our Winter play. No decision has been made on what we'll be performing, but suggestions are welcome. And participation is mandatory, be it acting or working backstage.

'Next, and this suggestion goes to you, Mrs P. Someone thinks we should be served chocolate cake every Thursday, and I heartily concur. What do you say?'

'I say, if Ivy bakes it, I'll serve it,' said Mrs Patmore, with a cheery laugh.

'Excellent!' replied Father. 'Finally, and this one is near and dear to my heart. Someone has suggested we purchase new books for the library. That's an excellent idea. I'll be checking the budget to see what extra funds are available. And we'll need to purchase swimming gear for our beach days. Okay, that's it. Done and dusted, unless anyone else has something to say. No? All right then, let me say a prayer and close this meeting…oh, by the way, the suggestion box will be placed at the chapel door again. Fill it up.'

 **xxx**

Anna heard the strains of 'Heartbreak Hotel' as she neared her room. Pushing open the door, she could see why. Jane and young Sr Mary Josephine were dancing in the centre of the bedroom to the popular tune playing on Jane's new portable turntable. 'What's going on? I thought Elvis Presley had moved in.'

'You should be so lucky! But you do have Gorgeous Gordon panting over you. That's not a bad second place prize. I don't want to hear any complaining from you, missy. Isn't that right, Sister Josephine?'

Out of breath, Sister Josephine fell back on Anna's bed giggling into her hand. 'If you say so, Jane.'

'Yeah, well...' Anna walked over and turned off the music. 'You're lucky Sister is in her office. If she heard this and walked in on Sr Josephine's gyrating, we'd all be in Heartbreak Hotel,' she said, facing Jane with her hands on her hips.

'Well, aren't we grumpy, Miss Smith? Need I remind you, you're the only one in this room who has a hot date tonight?'

Anna rolled her eyes and sighed. 'I wish it was you, rather than me. I'm really not into it.'

'Oh, you will be, you're just in a mood. Now let's find you something sexy to wear. Something that will knock his socks off!'

Anna looked from Sr Josephine, on the bed and Jane, already pulling clothes from her wardrobe. Jane had one thing right, she was in a mood, that much was sure.

'This is cute.' Jane was holding up a red and white polka-a-dot summer dress with a halter-like top and a flirty full shirt. 'You can cinch it at the waist with this wide black belt.'

Anna turned up her nose and pulled out a black pleated skirt. 'Yes, I think this.' Then she brought forth a white blouse with a high Peter Pan collar. 'It's sleeveless, so I'd better take my black jumper too. Well, that was easy!'

Jane stood there looking at her, wondering where her friend had gone. "What? Are you joking? Are you trying to give Sister Josephine a run for her money? You'll look like a nun, beg your pardon, Sister. Or like a librarian attending a funeral. Gordon will hate it. '

Sister Josephine just smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

'Well, I like it, and that's all that matters.' Anna's mind was made up, and she really didn't care what Gordon thought of it.

'Do you need to talk, dear?'

'Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow. Thanks, Janie. Now if you two will excuse me, I want to take a shower and wash my hair.' Saying that, Anna grabbed her shampoo, creme rinse and robe and headed for their shared bathroom.

It wasn't until almost two hours later that her date finally showed up, already late, only adding to the mood she was in. He pulled the van up in front of The Blessed Virgin in a cloud of dust, the sight making Anna wince. It was half-seven, thirty minutes after the scheduled hour.

Gordon hadn't seen her sitting there yet, watching him from the front steps. He looked in his rear-view mirror, running a hand over his flap-top, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip. 'Ah, it's going to be a great night…' he thought to himself before he laid on the horn for Anna to come out.

'You're late,' Anna said, hopping into the van and closing the door with force.

'Sorry! Already lashing out at me? You weren't this moody when I met you. Just chill, baby and give your man a kiss,' he replied, leaning over, lips puckered.

'No. Not when you've been smoking, and I'm not moody,' she told him when he backed away. His kisses always tasted like smoke, and he knew she found it disgusting. When was the last time she had enjoyed being kissed by him? Honestly...she couldn't remember. 'I've been waiting on the steps for half an hour, Gordon.'

'Okay, sorry.' Gordon threw the butt of the fag out of the window. 'Gloomy, though, aren't we? Going to a funeral?'

Anna looked down at her pleated skirt, the darkness of the fabric made her a bit uncomfortable; it didn't match her spirit, who she was...well, maybe it did tonight. Remembering that Jane had asked her the exact same thing, she tried to excuse herself this time. 'I haven't worn this one in a long time...I needed a change.'

'It's a change, all right. Let's go?'

'Yes, let's go…'

He drove for about ten minutes when the pub they were dining at came into view. It was a quaint little place, set amongst the cottages and across the village square, where during the day men and women sold flowers and vegetables.

'Bloody hell! My spot's gone.'

'To be fair, it's not your spot, is it?' she asked him as he stopped the car on the road. The traffic here was never that bad, and at this time of the day most cars were parked.

'But I always park there, and it's taken,' Gordon pointed out. 'Damn!'

'There are plenty of other places. Pick one,' Anna told him.

'Yeah, but I like that one.'

She rolled her eyes at his childish manners. He so often behaved like this, more lately than ever, she was sure. Gordon was almost thirty years old but acted like he was ageing in reverse. 'Just don't take too long, I'm starving.'

'Are you, baby?' he parked the car then, right next to his _special_ spot. 'I was thinking we could sit here for a little before going inside.'

'Why?'

'Oh, you know... ' he began to fiddle with her ponytail, taking the end of it between his fingers and tickling her ear with it. 'Spend some time alone…'

'Gordon…stop that, it tickles,' she said, pushing his hand away, trying not to get too annoyed.

'Come on, babe. No one's watching. You used to like it, hm?' His hand travelled down to her lap then, and slowly, he began to touch her bare legs, pushing her skirt up to have better access to her skin.

'Gordon, please!' She grabbed his hand before he could move it further. Her eyes locked with his, scoldingly. He looked at her with fiery anger and for a moment it scared her. 'I never used to like this…' she said.

'You bore… come on.' Gordon leant down to kiss her neck, freeing his hand from her grasp. 'Why don't you want to make your man happy?' Boldly and without taking into consideration her complaints and pleadings for him to stop, he slid his hand under her skirt, and was fast enough to touch the lace edge of her panties.

'Gordon! What are you doing?' She grabbed his wrist, pushing him away again.

'What? You are my girlfriend, aren't you?' his voice rose, and Anna saw anger ignite in his eyes.

'That doesn't give you the right -'

'What now? Don't tell me you're a saint,' he sneered.

'I'm not, but -'

'But what? I'm a man, Anna; I have needs. And you're my girl; you're damn lucky I want to be with you and not with some other girl.'

'Lucky?' She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

'Yeah, I could have any woman I want...but no, I respect you. I wait and wait; I told you I would.'

'This doesn't seem like you're waiting…' she shouted. 'And if you are making such a big of a sacrifice you don't have to. Be my guest, Gordon. Find yourself another _babe_ , by all means.'

'Don't be like that, okay!' He held her roughly by the arm when she tried to open the door to leave. 'It's not normal you want to wait until we're married, not for a modern girl like you. What's your problem?'

'I can't believe you're saying that!'

'That priest of yours is putting ideas in your head, isn't he?' Gordon's nostrils flared in anger. 'Pious joker! Preaching to women to save themselves until they're married.'

'First of all, he's not just my priest.'

'He got that game off me, he did…' Gordon laughed to himself. 'But I'll get him back one day.'

'What game?' She stilled her movements to try to get away from him. 'What are you saying?'

'The football match. Bet he pissed himself when he saw the boys puking their guts out.'

Anna gasped at his confession, but deep inside she knew it had been him all along. 'I can't believe...it was you?!'

'It was only a joke.' Gordon's laughter continued, finding his prank too funny.

'I should have known...of course, it was you. Only someone so stupid would do such thing. Stupid and childish.''

Gordon stopped laughing then, taking a minute to digest her words. 'You're calling me stupid?!'

'I'm calling you stupid, and a brute! An utter brute. If you don't grow up past that...boyish phase of yours, no girl will want you.'

'Well, you do! Admit it, baby,' he smirked at her, but his face turned serious when he saw her looking at him.

'I don't…' She shook her head, feeling a bit guilty for breaking up with him like this, but then, if he loved her he would understand, he wouldn't act the way he did. Maybe that was their problem. They were too different, they'd always been, and only now was she seeing it. 'I might have...a long time ago, but not anymore. Not for years.'

'What are you saying?' Gordon breathed heavily, listening to what she said.

'I'm sorry, Gordon, but I can't do this. Not anymore.'

With that, she opened the door and left, running away from his van as fast as she could. The cool air of the approaching night was making her feel better, but nevertheless, it hadn't been enough to stop tears from being shed. Why? Change. Her life was, just now, completely different than it had been two minutes ago. She was free, and she was sad. It was good and bad all at once.

'Anna! Anna?' he called angrily after her.

'Leave me alone!'

'Bitch!' he whispered to himself before shouting at her again. 'We'll talk again, Anna! Don't you think you can walk away and call it an end? I won't have it!' He punched the steering wheel of his van and turned it on, rage making him hit the accelerator harder than he'd liked, making the sound echo in the calm silence. In the distance, he saw Anna disappearing into the path that lead to the Orphanage.

 _No way they were done. No bloody way._

 **xxx**

'Father!' Anna exclaimed the moment she flipped the light switch to see him coming in the back door. 'You startled me. I thought I was the only one still up.'

'I'm sorry. I'm having a restless night, but that's not unusual for me,' John said, his eyes crinkling, quietly closing the door behind him. 'Sometimes the night air helps.' He was dressed in his maroon housecoat, pyjamas trousers and undershirt and his slippers.

Anna noticed his hair was mussed like he had been running his hands through it, 'I was just going to have a glass of milk and a sandwich. Will you sit down and join me? I'm starving.'

He nodded his head, pulling out two chairs at the table. 'Didn't Gordon feed you tonight?' he asked jokingly then he immediately regretted it.

Anna was at the counter slicing bread for their sandwiches, her back to him. 'I didn't hang around long enough to eat.'

'No? Do you want to talk? I'm here, you know?'

She turned then, 'I know, Father, but not yet, okay? Now, here's your sandwich. Tea or milk?'

'Milk, I think,' John replied. He couldn't help smile at her standing there in her pink chenille robe and bare feet.

Anna poured two glasses and sat them on the table. 'What keeps you up tonight?

'Something good, I think. At least it has the potential to be.'

'Can you tell me about it? I could use some good news.'

He hesitated at her comment, but only for a moment. She would tell him if and when she was ready. 'You already know. There's a young couple coming to spend time with Rosie in the morning.'

Anna placed her hand on his shoulder as she took her seat beside him. 'And she's your first, and maybe your favourite?'

'No, I love them all,' he said, shaking his head in denial. 'Well, maybe, a little... I love them all, but Peanut, she...'

'She stole your heart. It happens.'

John rested his cheek in his hand, looking at her. 'I'm a softie for a pretty girl, what can I say?' he chuckled.

They ate their food in comfortable silence for awhile, until Anna turned toward him and very earnestly asked, 'Do you like being a priest? Oh my God!' she gasped, burying her face in her hands. 'I'm sorry, Father, that was a silly question to ask.' She rose from the table. 'I should go to bed now.'

Her question had surprised him. No one in the sixteen years he had been a priest had ever asked that and that in itself seemed odd to him if he were to think about it. He was at a loss for words. Staring down at his folded hands he spoke almost longingly. 'I miss not hearing my name spoken.'

Anna turned back to him. 'What?'

'Please stay, Anna.' He looked up at her. 'It's not that late. Don't go just yet.'

She took her seat again. 'What did you mean, Father? People speak your name all the time.'

'Father.' He nodded, 'Yes, Father, but never simply John, like a friend would say.' He laughed softly, wishing he could let it drop, but it was too late for that, and she sat there, watching him, breaking his heart with her sweet presence. John swivelled toward her until their knees were touching. Automatically, her hands reached out for his. 'We're friends, aren't we Anna?'

"We are, the best of friends, but I don't know if I'd feel right -,'

He stopped her then, 'No, please, don't give it another thought. I should never have said anything. I can see where it would be uncomfortable for you.'

She sat there staring at their clasped hands, and he watched as her face grew thoughtful, pensive. John could see there was something she needed to get off her mind. 'Anna?'

'F...Father, I know who gave the boys the cigars...and I sort of feel responsible.'

'Now Anna Smith, don't go telling me you gave my boys cigars because I find that hard to believe.'

'No,' that made her smile, but for just a moment. "I do know who did, though.'

'Was it Gordon?'

She inhaled sharply. 'You knew? And you didn't say anything?'

'Not for sure, but I thought there was the possibility. And it's not your fault. Don't you go thinking that.'

"We fought tonight.' Once she'd started talking she couldn't seem to stop. It helped that they were still holding hands.

'Over the cigars?'

'That,' she nodded, 'and other things. So many other things. I broke it off with him. He's changed, or maybe I have. He'll probably be happier without me. All we ever did lately was argue. I did the right thing, didn't I?'

'That's your call, but as your friend, I think you did.' John watched as a single tear slipped from her eye. Without a second thought, he reached out and wiped it away and felt her lean into his hand.

After a moment, he smiled at her and rose to standing, bringing her with him. 'Now you go on up to bed, and I'll clean up the evidence of our midnight snack. We don't want to bring the wrath of Mrs Patmore down on us.'

'I do think I can sleep now. I know I made the right decision about Gordon. I should have done it long ago.' Anna brightened then, 'But, I will help you because it takes half the time with two and you need your sleep as much as I do.'

'As you wish, Miss Smith,' he replied with a nod of his head.

The kitchen was sorted soon enough; the light was extinguished, and they found themselves standing at the foot of the big staircase. Anna stood on the first step facing him. They were eye to eye. Something had changed tonight, but they hadn't quite figured out what just yet.

'Well...goodnight...John,' she whispered with a soft smile as she ducked her head shyly and turned and climbed the stairs.

John stood there a second longer, watching until she rounded the corner. His heart was full and his eyes bright. He would sleep well.

 **xxx**

'They seem very loving, don't they, Father?'

Sister Mary Rose's words went all but ignored from Father John's line of thought, and although he did nod, he hadn't actually heard what she had said.

They were both watching the scene from the kitchen window, as Rosie and her potential new parents played together in the beautiful, flowery garden outside. _His_ Peanut, joyful as always, showing lilies and lavender to the young couple as if they were the most precious treasures of all.

'Father?' Sister Mary Rose insisted. 'She'll be in good hands if they adopt her...and this is our job. As much as it breaks our hearts, it's better for them if they have a mother and a father than to live here.'

'I know,' Father gave in with a sigh.

'We all have favourites,' the gentle nun rested a hand on his back. 'Don't think about it too much. I've had my heart broken so many times...and it will break many times more, but it's worth it.'

'I'm sure it is.' He finally smiled feeling a bit better after Sister's words. 'I just...I want to make sure our children are adopted by good people. I couldn't forgive myself otherwise.'

'That's why these things take so long,' she assured him. 'We make sure they are fit for the job.'

The scene outside continued to unfold before their eyes. Rosie was now rolling in the grass as Mr and Mrs Lewis laughed. That was until the little girl spotted Father John spying from the window and without a second thought, she jumped up from the ground to take a better look at him.

'Faver!' She giggled when she saw him smiling back, and ran for the open kitchen door. She reached for him with outstretched arms, ready to be picked as she always was.

'Hello, little Peanut.' He kissed the girl on the cheek as soon as he settled her in his arms. 'Are you having fun?'

Rosie nodded with a mischievous grin before burying her face in his neck.

'You have to go outside, my darling. Mr and Mrs Lewis are waiting,' Sister Rose told the girl.

'No...Wosie stays with Faver. Look!' She showed Father John a flower she was carrying with her. 'It's pink!'

'It's pink, yes.' John breathed in the flower's smell. 'And pink is your favourite colour, hm?'

'Yes…' Rosie giggled again, one of her hands coming to cup his cheek. She patted him there ever so gently.

'Now go, they're waiting for you,' Father told her. 'They want to know you better and to play with you, go on.' He placed the girl on the floor and before she returned to the couple; she handed him the lily.

'For you, Faver,' and with that she went outside, running and ready for more fun and games, while he stayed there, watching and hoping for the best.

It would be so much harder than he had expected. All of this. Loving children, having then to give them away. With a sigh, he turned to walk back to his office, and images of last night's conversation with Anna played in his mind. He smiled to himself, leaving Sister Rose watching over Rosie and the young couple. Mrs Patmore, Ivy and Sr Josephine were preparing lunch, the smell of stew already so strong. There were certainly downsides to being here, but there were so many good things. Friends, family...that almost palpable feeling of happiness. _Give it time, John Bates...give it time._

 **xxx**

The lunch bell had rung, and masses of hungry children rushed into the dining hall in a somewhat unorderly, raucous manner.

'Calm down, calm down.' It was Father John's voice they heard, whenever high spirits were about to explode into chaos. 'Your seats will be there whether you run or walk, so you'd better walk. Did you all stop to wash your hands?'

'Yes, Father,' was heard echoing through the room. His calls to attention, even his scolds were so different from everything these children were accustomed to. Father John Bates was cool-headed and self-assured, a gentle word was never far from his lips. But, of course, to Sister Madeleine, this was no way to raise children.

From her place at the head table, Sister scowled and muttered to Sister Mary Louise, seated on her left, 'He's spoiling them, and when he leaves we will be the ones mending his mistakes…'

'When he leaves?' Sister Rose questioned, eyeing her superior with a confused look. 'Who said he was going to leave?'

'Who says he isn't?!' Sister Madeleine insisted. 'The Bishop is no fool, and if he received my letter he will do what's right, and what's right is to give the place to someone more...more suitable. Someone with a strong hand to raise these children in the best of ways. Well behaved children don't grow with soft parents, isn't that what they say?'

'Never heard that one.' Sister Louise turned up her nose.

'Most of what she says you never heard before,' Mrs Patmore remarked, as she leant between them, setting a platter of sliced bread on the table.

'Why don't you get back in the kitchen? We can serve ourselves.' Sister Madeleine angrily snapped at her.

'Must I remind you I eat with you now? Ivy and I...The new director said so.' the cook teased. 'He said it was nonsense for the two of us to eat alone in the kitchen. I reckon he's right.'

'What's right, Mrs P?' asked Father John, as he sat himself down, choosing to eat at the head table today.

'Oh, I was just saying that I'm very much enjoy eating with you all. Don't you Ivy?' She elbowed her young helper who was standing beside her holding tray containing a pitcher of water and glasses.

'Oh yes...very much,' Ivy responded with a shy smile.

'That's wonderful, Mrs P,' Father John said. 'Now sit down, I'll be blessing the food for us to eat.'

With that, he asked for silence in the room, and he quickly said the blessing, something simple, he knew too well everyone preferred eating to listening to another sermon.

' _Amen_...now eat and enjoy. And Teddy, please, don't pick your nose at the table.'

As always, lunch was a joyful respite in their day. There was laughter and jokes, whispered gossip, interesting discussions. Sometimes even loud disagreements ensued. These were usually settled when a child would be made to sit next to Father, wherever he happened to be sitting that day, even if it was the head table, much to Sister's horror and dismay.

Today was Jeremy's day. He was placed between Father John and Mrs Patmore, after cursing at a classmate and inciting a mini food fight. The priest would talk to him later in his office, in private.

After that bit of excitement everything seemed to be going well, even Sister Madeleine had gone silent and appeared to be enjoying her food, when out of the blue, a booming voice silenced the room. They all look toward the door.

'I hope I'm not interrupting your meal!'

'Oh, Lord!' Sister Madeleine exclaimed, bringing one hand to her mouth. 'The Bishop!'

'Indeed, Sister,' the Bishop replied with a grin. 'Didn't you ask for my...intervention?'

The old nun stood up at once and hurriedly walked toward him, taking his hand and kissing it soundly.

'Your Grace, I thought you would inform me of when you were arriving.'

'I like surprises, Sister.' The Bishop smiled, looking at Father John, who was standing with the other member of the staff.

'Your grace,' Father smiled back, walking to him.

The Bishop let go of the nun's hand abruptly. 'My dear friend!' he said, opening his arms to Father John. 'I meant to come earlier…'

'What matters is that you're here now.' Father John patted his friend on the back. Sister Madeleine looked on the scene in shock. All the others were cheering inside. 'And you're most welcome.'

'I could hear the laughter from outside... I can tell I made the right decision in sending you here, son. Don't you agree, Sister?'

The old nun only nodded, unsure of what to say. It seemed like her letter didn't have the effect she wanted. Moreover, it seemed like she had made a big, big error in judgement.

 **xxx**

'I see...I guess it doesn't surprise me,' John sighed shaking his head. The two old friends were now sitting in his office; tea had been served. Through the open window, both men could hear the children laughing and playing. It was a glorious, happy sound to behold and such a change from the Bishop's previous visits.

'You see…' Terence took a sip of his tea, 'the woman was used to being the one in charge. Father Benedict didn't do much besides drinking and gambling.'

'What?'

'Exactly what you heard,' the older man nodded, grinning at John's surprised reaction. 'No one has told you? Yes, he drank to an excess, as many do in our line of work. But he loved gaming for money more than any man should, even less one who should set an example.'

'Did she know?'

'Oh, more than that...Sister Madeleine covered for him. I think, in the end, they all did.'

'I see…by the way, I have a locked cabinet of high-priced alcohol for you to take back home with you. I don't want it here.'

Terence nodded his head. 'It is possible to have a drink now and then without it becoming a problem, you know.'

'Not for me it's not, Terence. Not for me,' John said honestly.

'Tell me! How are you doing?' Terence asked. 'How's your life in this place? What about those doubts of yours? Still tormenting you?'

'What can I say?' John smiled, looking down at his teacup. It was too hot for him to drink still. 'I love being here. It's wonderful, I love the children, I've made…I've made very good friends.'

'But?' Terence eyed him knowingly, and John tried to feign confusion. 'Oh come on, son. I know there's a but coming.'

The priest had to chuckle at that. 'I'm happy here, Terence, the most satisfied I've been anywhere but...sometimes, you know. There are things that still...things I have doubts about, things I'm required to do, things that are expected of me that I don't feel I have the right to do. So many doubts.'

'Are you doubting God, John?'

'No, never God, but some of the teachings of the Church, yes.'

'You're a priest, son because you wanted to be. I advised you and you decided. I warned you, and you told me you were sure about it. You made vows, promises, you married the Church…'

'I know I did...and I respect all of that. I never- '

'Not even in your heart, do you?' John went silent then. Terence had hit the right key. 'Son, we're men, and men are tempted, men doubt, men question and men don't live a life without regrets. What makes us worthy of such status, like this is that we can fight those temptations, those doubts. To live knowing that we are stronger than anything thrown in our way, than anything that tries to weaken us.'

'I know,' John sighed.

'Think about that. You are no less for thinking; you are more for fighting against such thoughts. Live for these children, be their father. Live solely for them,' Terence advised.

'That's what I do. And even that is becoming difficult,' the priest confessed.

'How so?'

'There's a little girl, Rosie...she's going to be adopted,' John told him, his heart tightening in his chest.

'And she's your favourite?' Terence eyed him tenderly.

'I guess…' John smiled to himself. 'She's two, and the sweetest thing. For some reason, she reminds me of him. Of...' John's voice caught.

'I know, son. Well then, I want to meet this Rosie of yours.' Terence clapped his hands together. 'And those pretty teachers too, hm? I'll be asking them if you're behaving.'

'Of course, Terence. Of course.' John smiled, but before they could say another word, there was a knock on the door. 'Come in.'

'I'm sorry, Father, but Jeremy's been waiting. You said you wanted to talk to him?' It was Miss Smith, and behind her, a moody-faced Jeremy. When John saw her, he remembered Terence's words, and for the first time since he had arrived, he looked away from her.

'I do, yes. I'm sorry Jeremy, I forgot in all the excitement of having the Bishop visit. Come in.'

'Well,' the Bishop rose from his chair, 'you do that, and I'll go with Miss...?'

'Smith,' John and Anna both replied at the same time, their eyes met for a moment, but neither lingered there as before. She sensed something was different; it hurt, but he was sure he was doing the right thing.

'Miss Smith,' the Bishop repeated, chancing a look at his friend. 'Maybe Miss Smith can walk me to the kitchen; I'm not sure I remember the way?' But of course, he did.

'Certainly, your Grace,' the teacher smiled politely. 'It'll be my pleasure.'

 **x**

'Well, Jeremy…' Father John faced the child then, as soon as they were left alone. 'You know why you're here?'

'To be saved, I reckon,' Jeremy said sullenly, sitting on the chair across from Father's.

'Saved?' the priest asked, confused.

'Yeah, saved. You'll be tryin' to save my soul again, but I tell you, it won't work. Never does.' The boy pursed his lips and stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest.

'I'm not trying to save you; we're just talking.'

'But that's your job, isn't it? Aren't you a priest of salvation?'

Father smiled. 'I'm not sure I have such power…' He wished he had; he would have used it on himself. 'I just try to help, son.'

'You're not my father!' Jeremy voiced, quite upset. 'Stop calling me son.'

Father John eyed the boy for a moment. He'd thought he'd made some small progress with Jeremy, but there was rebellion in the lad's eyes, sadness, and a distrust for life as he had never seen before...well...to be truthful he had. In himself.

'All right, Jeremy,' he nodded. 'I won't call you son again unless you ask me to.'

'I won't,' was Jeremy's curt answer.

'I called you here because you cursed at Louis again and that practically started a food fight.'

'Yeah, what if I did? They tease me.'

'See…' Father smiled at the boy. 'Now why haven't you told me that before?'

'Why should I? What would you do about it?' Jeremy asked, turning his nose up at the priest.

'I can tell them not to do it again. You have to open up to me, Jeremy. You have to let me know what's going on. How can I save you if you keep yourself to yourself?' Father winked, and the boy eyed him suspiciously. Father John was indeed surprising. 'Tell me, what they tease you about? Tell me how you feel, Jeremy. I'm all ears.'

 **xxx**

'Suppose your shot didn't hit the target then, Miss Poovey.'

'Stop calling me that! I'm Sister Madeleine now and have been for more than fifty years.'

'Miss Poovey or Sister Madeleine, you still made a big mistake. Writing the Bishop to complain about his son…'

'He's not his son.'

'Might as well be… didn't you hear them? He's known Father John since the day he was born. He's known his mother since she was a child too, played together the two, cousins from an uncle's side and all. Blood from the same blood. You were not expecting that were you?'

'Actually…it does make sense now. Father John's here only because he's family. If the Bishop weren't so blinkered, he'd know he's not suited for the -'

'For what, Sister Madeleine?'

'Oh...Your grace, we were just talking -'

'I'm not easily convinced, Sister, and certainly not blinkered. I choose Father John because I know he's the best man for the job, being my cousin or not. I know how to differentiate. If he weren't fit, I would be the first one telling him to go somewhere else.'

'Of course, your grace.'

'Then, stop making such a fuss about it, Sister! Just accept it, because unless Father John leaves of his own free will, he will be staying on until he's old enough to retire.'

'If that's what you wish.'

'That's the best thing for this orphanage. Wishes pay no tribute to God if the are not for the good of this institution. You should think more about that, Sister. Sometimes what we wish for is not what's right. Well, I asked Miss Smith to show me to the kitchen...Father John has spoken very highly of you Mrs Patmore and you too Ivy.'

'Oh, thank you, your Grace,' Mrs Patmore said, while Ivy turned red.

'She's the best cook ever, your Grace,' Anna remarked with a smile.

'I look forward to seeing that for myself come dinnertime, Miss Smith,' the Bishop replied with a grin. 'And let me say, I can't wait for it! Now, can you show me what's going on in the rest of the orphanage, or am I keeping you -?'

'I can do that, your Grace,' Sister Madeleine suggested, stepping in front of the teacher.

'No need, Sister. If Miss Smith doesn't mind, I would like her to do it.'

The kitchen went silent; even the birds outside appeared to have frozen upon hearing the Bishop's words.

'Of course, your Grace,' Anna responded after only a moment's hesitation. 'I'll be happy to show you everything.'

'Thank you,' the Bishop smiled, taking her hand a placing it in the crook of his arm. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a tour to attend to.'

'Halleluia!' It was Mrs Patmore who spoke, after Anna and the Bishop left. 'Now, there's a man I like. I always have liked him.'

'Oh, just go back to work.' Sister Madeleine retorted, boiling with fury. 'We're all lost!'

 **xxx**

Anna was perplexed. The Bishop's visit, although it had been a wonderful surprise to all, had stirred things. What things, she wasn't sure.

She was sure it wasn't her imagination that Father John seemed to be avoiding her. She didn't know him well, she supposed, they'd only met a few months ago, but she thought of them as close friends, especially after their talk the night before. Today, though, he seemed unfamiliar to her; the way he behaved when she was around, the way he tried so hard not to face her.

Anna was in bed, trying to focus on her book, but deep inside she was anxious, even sad. Did something happen that she didn't know? Did she do something wrong? The day had started out so well. The tour she gave to the Bishop had been fun, and light-hearted even; His Grace had proved to be as friendly as Father John, with a good sense of humour and a young spirit, belying his years, but after that...

Maybe it was due to her after all. Maybe she was too friendly, had allowed herself to become too close. Maybe she smiled at him too much, longed for something she couldn't quite yet grasp. Maybe it was her own unsettling that was making her feel this way.

With an exasperated sigh, she placed the book on her nightstand and turned off her lamp. In the darkness, she feared what the future would bring, for what the present already was. The past couple of months had been surprising; the next ones would prove to be even more so...in both good and bad ways.

 **x**

In his room, he kneeled to pray, to ask for strength in his dark hours, for a light at the end of the tunnel, for the words of his friend Terence to echo more often in his mind...but when he opened his eyes, he thought only of her. He thought of how he hated this distance he had tried to put between them, this awkwardness. _He missed her, plain and simple._ He found that he missed her too much.

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:** A walk in the sunset and a night of dancing. _

**_Thank you for reading :)_**


	8. Chapter 7

_**A/N:** Good evening everyone! It seems like these chapters are getting longer and longer, something we really can't help :P It's that kind of Banna energy. There's nothing we can do but let it go. _

_We wish you all a grand weekend! Hope you enjoy this new update :) Let us know!_

 _~ **Terrie & Handy **_

_**Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1-6._

* * *

 _ **Blessed** ~ Chapter 7_

 **x**

 _Only you can make all this world seem right_

 _Only you can make the darkness bright_

 _Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do_

 _And fill my heart with love for only you_

 _Only you can make all this change in me_

 _For it's true, you are my destiny_

 _When you hold my hand I understand the magic that you do_

 _You're my dream come true, my one and only you_

 **x**

'You really are a foul creature, John Bates.' The Bishop pulled the pillow over his face to protect his eyes from the glare of the early morning sun. 'You keep me up half the night talking, and now you want to drag me out for a walk?'

'Only after you've had your coffee and breakfast, your Grace,' John said, pulling the pillow away from his face.

'What have you got there? And don't you ' _Your Grace,'_ me, son. Drag over a chair and join me in a cup of coffee.' Terence pulled himself up to a sitting position, accepting the tray John placed on his lap.

'I don't know. Do you really think we'd both fit?' John replied with a snicker.

'Smart ass! You're beginning to sound like that young flock of yours. Makes me wonder if Sister Madeleine could be right about you.'

John removed the cover of the tray and waved his hand over the food to spread the aroma around. It worked. His old friend was a push-over for pure, simple food, in this case, a soft-boiled egg, a fresh croissant and a small crystal bowl of fresh strawberries from the garden, topped off with a large mug of rich coffee.

The Bishop accepted the mug John had handed him, taking a deep sniff. 'Ah, Mrs Patmore is a culinary genius, isn't she?

'Yes, I'd have to agree, but in this instance, the culinary genius is yours truly,' John crowed, looking smug.

'You don't say? You made this?'

'I did, well, aside from the croissant. Mrs P. made those last night,' the priest admitted, sitting down with a sigh.

'So what's all this about, son? And don't deny it. I've known you all your life, now spill it,' the older man ordered.

'Okay, I'll come right to the point. Have you ever been in this room, Terence?'

The Bishop looked around in the harsh light of the sun. It was gaudy. It was pretentious. 'It's God awful and easy to see why you sleep in that broom closet of yours. I must remember to thank Sister for putting me in this pretentious mausoleum.'

'Yes, that's part of the problem, she thinks it's beautiful and tasteful. All I can think about is the good we could put it too.'

The Bishop considered John's words. 'Exactly what are you suggesting?'

'The orphanage needs a bus, Terence. What we don't need are opulent oil paintings and an extravagant, curtained, four-poster bed, among other things. This room is only fit for the Holy Father, and I doubt he will drop by for a visit anytime soon. What I'm asking you to do, is -,'

'Done! And now that I look better at them, I have a feeling some of those paintings might fetch a hefty price.'

'Can we legally do a sell-off? I don't understand why he didn't take some of these with him when he left.'

'Well, he couldn't, could he? He funnelled all of his ill-gotten gains through the orphanage and in the end it belongs to The Blessed Virgin. It turned around and bit him in the end.'

'And Sister knew about all of this? Are you sure?' asked John.

'I'm not sure. She would never admit it, and I have no proof, so I never accused her. But someone had to, and she was his only ally. Once I got you in here, I just decided to bide my time and see happened. By the by, these strawberries are tasty. Might I take some for my trip home?' Terence said, licking the juice from his fingers. 'So go ahead son. Make an inventory and let's quietly sell this stash off and put it to good use. Now, how about that walk you threatened me with?' he said, setting the breakfast tray to one side.

'Wonderful.'

'Give me five minutes in the bathroom and I'll be right with you.'

Only minutes later, they were making their way down the big staircase when they met Anna on her way up. 'Good morning, Miss Smith! How is this lovely morning treating you?' the old man greeted her.

'Hello, your Grace...Father…' she answered.

It wasn't lost on the wise Bishop that John merely nodded at Anna and excused himself saying, 'I'll meet you down at the garden door, sir,' and he was gone.

He watched as she stared after the priest for a moment, then she walked on having said, 'Have a nice day, your Grace.'

 _There's something...I can't quite put my finger on_ … Terence shook his head and followed after Father John.

 **xxx**

'I understand why you love it so much here. Just this garden…' Terence took a deep breath. 'It's marvellous.'

The sun was just now showing from behind the treetops, a still, white light giving away the early hours of the day. The children had just come down for breakfast and from their place in the garden, the two men could hear their voices and laughter coming from the dining room.

'Yes. It is,' John replied shortly, taking a seat on the swinging bench, and waiting for his friend to join him.

'My suspicion was right then,' Terence spoke with his usual cheery tone, and the priest eyed him questioningly. 'There's something else. Something you didn't tell me.'

'Stop exaggerating, Terence.' John managed a little smile. 'I told you everything. Since when do I keep anything from you?'

'Since just now… Oh, I won't insist,' the older man brought his hands up in surrender. 'You know that's not what I do, but I know there's something else, and I also know that sooner or later, you will tell me.'

John focused on his folded hands, unsure of what to say. Terence knew him too well, and denials were out of the question now.

'I just hope, whatever is it, that you won't cause yourself any more suffering. You've already done enough of that, don't you think?'

'Isn't suffering a penitence, though?' John asked, looking ahead to the big windows that graced Mrs Patmore's kitchen. Through them, he could see the cook and her helpers scurrying about amongst the pots and pans. 'You were the one who taught me that divine justice begins in life.'

Terence faced John at once, 'Do you hear yourself speaking? Since when do you need penitence for what happened?' John tried to answer, but the Bishop wouldn't let him until he was finished. 'Shush...listen to me, I've told you this a million times, and I will do so a million more if needed. What happened wasn't your fault, and you shouldn't punish yourself for that. Unreasoned punishment is as bad as committing a crime, and God doesn't look upon it kindly. He's to fairness, to justice. He doesn't like obsessions and suffering. Especially when you make those around you suffer as well.'

'What do you mean?' John frowned.

'You know what I mean, John Bates. Our heart, sometimes, is righter than reason. Think about that.'

'So we should act on impulse first and do the thinking afterwards?' the priest quipped.

'Don't put words in my mouth, son. That's not what I said.'

John nodded then, ready to change the subject. Terence understood the cue right away. 'Why don't you stay for the week? It would be good to have you around.'

'You don't need me around, John,' the Bishop smiled. 'You have everything you need right here. But I would like to stay if I didn't have so much to do. Maybe I'll visit again soon and stay for a week or two. And I'm not leaving until tomorrow; there's plenty of time for us to talk.'

John narrowed his lips, only to feel an elbow jab his ribs. When he looked at Terence, his friend was laughing heartily, and he couldn't help but join.

 **xxx**

One week later, he found himself thinking back on the last conversation they'd had, wondering if he should have told Terence about that _something else_. Should he give it so much importance? Or should he try to just live with it? Pretend there was nothing there to be felt, to be longed for? But it was difficult, and more so with each passing day. Maybe he could withstand the temptation on its own, but along with the guilt and remorse he had endured for nearly twenty years now...

Her wondrous presence in his life seemed almost like a gift from God. But how could he feel that? It was blasphemous! And yet, there it was. He was one with himself when he was with her. When she was around everyone else would vanish. Then, he would run away and avoid her at any cost. It made him anxious and terribly shaken, especially when her eyes searched for his now distant ones, and he would feel how sad she'd grown when she found nothing there, not even a smile.

' _He doesn't like obsessions and suffering, especially when you make those around you suffer as well.'_

What could he do? Maybe she would grow tired, and he would become used to it.

Letting go of a long sigh, John removed his readers, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so. He had practically hidden himself away in his office in a quest to avoid her for the past week. But she was always there, in his mind and in his heart. This hiding out, it wasn't working.

He was unconsciously flipping through his planner when a scribbled note fell out. See boys about Jeremy. That was a conversation he'd meant to have over a week ago. John Bates, get your head out of your arse. With that, he left his office and walked upstairs to the older boys room. It was drizzling outside. He was sure that's where he'd find them.

 **x**

'May I come in?' The priest waited for the boys response, as he peeked inside the room.

'Father! Sure, come on in.' It was Philip who spoke up with a smile.

'I don't want to interrupt your reading,' Father replied, walking into the room and taking in the sight of the boys spread all over the floor and beds, each with a book or magazine in their hands.

'You aren't, Father,' James responded. 'We were just killing time until the rain stopped. It's our afternoon to work in the gardens.'

'Well then, before you go, there's something I need to talk to you about.' Father John said, sitting on one of the beds and hooking his walking stick on the headboard. 'Serious talking.'

The boys looked from one to the other, wondering what the priest meant. Were they in trouble?

'I meant to have this conversation before but...well, I forgot.' Father chuckled, rubbing his hands together and thinking of a good way to start. 'So...I'm trying to understand here, why do you boys tease Jeremy?'

He saw the apprehension in their eyes. They glanced furtively at each other. Philip, being the eldest of the group always took the responsibility of such replies under his wing.

'He makes fun of us too. He's a bad egg, Father.'

'Does he? I would like to know how if he spends all his time by himself.' Father John eyed the group.

'We don't mean anything by it.' It was Oscar who spoke now, closing his sports magazine.

'It's only a joke,' Louis added.

'Listen,' the priest sighed, before continuing. He wanted to handle this situation as best as he could, without too much fuss, without too much tension. 'I know, as wonderful as this place is, it's sometimes hard for you all to be here. And I know that there are times when you might feel...you feel abandoned, sad, upset, but that doesn't give you the right to lash it out on others.'

'We know…' Philip replied. 'But, he's just weird.'

'What's so bad about that?' Father asked. 'No one is the same; we're all weird in our own way. How boring it would be if we were all alike? Listen, Jeremy, like most of you remembers his parents. He remembers his mother's smile, his father's voice. He remembers his home, his dog...the regular stuff, but he also remembers his daddy, the one who should be protecting his family...he remembers him murdering his mother, his puppy and killing himself afterwards. Jeremy was there. He saw all that. How do you think he feels? One day he has a family, and the next...he has nothing. Nothing but these horrible memories.'

The boys looked down, some wiping their eyes. 'Do you think he shouldn't show some...reaction to it or just move on as if he was a senseless being? And you, making him mad, teasing, making fun of him, do you want him to grow up feeling hated?'

'No, Father,' the teens answered in unison.

'I know you don't. You are all good lads, and you will grow to be good men, and I also know that boys tend to be a little unfair sometimes. But we are all on this earth to learn, and I hope you do.'

'We are learning, Father,' James nodded his head.

'Yeah, we won't do it again,' Teddy agreed.

'There's something you need to do, though,' Father told them. 'You need to apologise to him.'

'He won't accept it,' Philip said, turning up his nose.

'Yeah, he won't. He'll curse us,' Oscar added.

'Let him curse you then. But you'll feel better after you do it, and then, you can turn your back to him and walk away, and feel like you've done right.' Father winked at them before rising from the bed and grabbing his stick. 'All right, that's it. I'll leave you alone now.'

Happy with the result of the conversation, Father John left the room, walking slowly along the hall and thinking about what he needed to accomplish that day. Work on his sermon, for sure, but he always tended to veer off script anyway. He wanted to spend some time with the toddlers. The Lewis's cancelled their play date with Rosie. He was curious what that was about. Then later on, if the rain let up, he'd try to get out for a walk, through the fields and along the cliff.

He stopped when a voice interrupted his thoughts. A sweet voice that caused his heart to turn over. It was Anna, speaking in one of the younger boys' bedrooms to his left, and time seemed to slow down, to a state of trance and echo. He approached the room and listened.

' _You boys always seem to get in over your heads, don't you, you little stinkers? Whatever made you think you'd need all this glue?'_

' _But Miss Smith, we didn't want it falling apart. We really like the planets!'_

' _Yes, I know, darling, but now you have glue everywhere but your underwear. Or so I hope! Let's get your clothes and this rug down to the laundry before anyone is the wiser, all right?'_

John leant against the hallway wall. He missed their conversations and wasn't sure how much longer he could resist.

 **x**

John hadn't been back sitting at his desk ten minutes when a loud rap on the open door caused him to inhale sharply and look up from his sermon. _Sister Madeleine. Now, what?_

'Yes, Sister,' he asked, 'What is it I can do for you?'

'Nothing at all, Father,' she said in her haughty voice. 'I merely wanted to remind you that I will be leaving first thing in the morning. Mr Rivers will be driving me to the station.' She nodded her head toward him and continued, 'The Retreat is sacrosanct. You won't be able to reach me.' Then she turned and left.

John sat behind his desk staring after her for a moment. _What? Did she say leaving?_ He rose from his chair and chased her down. 'Sister, wait! What are you talking about? You're not leaving, are you?'

She stopped in her tracks and rounded on him, shaking her head, as if to say, _You stupid, ineffectual man._

'If you had taken the time and looked at your calendar, you would have seen that I'm scheduled for my yearly retreat. I'll be gone for a week. I always go now.'

'Oh.' This had truly been a shock. She was right; he probably should check the big calendar on his office wall now and then. Yes, it was a shock, but not necessarily a bad one, not at all.

'Now I suppose,' she went on, 'you'll be expecting me to give up my Retreat this year because of your failing? So be it! As usual, I will make the sacrifice for The Blessed Virgin as I have so many times in the past, but I won't forget this, Father.'

' _No_ , Sister, I won't hear of it. You above anyone else deserves a time of peace and reflection. Go, go with my blessing.'

'But Father...'

'I insist, else how will I ever learn my lesson?' With that, he all but took her by the shoulders and pushed her up the stairs toward her room. 'No more work for you today. Rest up for your trip - pack your bags. Don't give us another thought, Sister. We'll be fine.'

 **xxx**

After such an announcement how could his mood not improve? John didn't feel right calling it a relief exactly, but he couldn't think of a better word to use. It was a freeing feeling, knowing that Sister Madeleine wouldn't be around for one whole week, even if he felt a bit guilty feeling that way.

Not long after, he made his way to the nursery to loaded up on hugs and kisses, read a story and sing a couple of songs until the toddlers were put down for their naps. Then, craving a glass of Mrs Patmore's iced tea, he headed to the kitchen, but when he walked in, there were no signs of the red-headed cook or her helpers, only a teapot sitting on the stove and biscuits in the oven. _What on earth…where's everyone?_

He checked on the tea to make sure it wouldn't boil dry and looked around for any clue of where anyone might be, when, from the corner of his eye someone in the garden caught his attention.

Anna Smith. On the arbour swing, barefoot, and very focused on reading a magazine. It wouldn't hurt to ask her where the others had gone. Maybe this was the excuse John had been waiting for since he had heard her in the boys hall this morning. Maybe it was a sign.

'Hello.' His voice made her jump a little, and he couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction.

'Father!' Anna brought one hand to her chest, a big smile spreading across her face. She immediately noticed his easiness back again, that easiness she thought had vanished away forever. She was relieved. 'You gave me a fright.'

'I'm sorry,' he replied, taking a seat beside her. 'It wasn't my intention.'

They faced each other for a moment, resolving every bitter feeling of the avoidances and distances over the past week. They had missed each other like this, and John couldn't help but feel ashamed of himself.

'Do you know where Mrs P and her helpers are? The kitchen is abandoned.' He broke the silence, and her eyes focused back on the magazine she had been reading, while he lingered there, on her image

'Brian O'Hara has just delivered a new load of produce from the farm. They must be in the pantry putting everything away,' she replied, flipping the pages.

John could now see it was a catalogue. Dresses, stockings, petticoats...he tried too hard not to look but, well...

'I see…' he nodded, staring ahead after a page filled with sheer chemises came into view. 'I have good news to share.'

'Have you?' Anna closed the catalogue and faced him with a playful grin. 'I'm waiting.'

'Okay, here goes. Sister Madeleine is going for her yearly retreat in the morning.'

'Oh! That.' Anna giggled, waving her hand at him. 'Everyone knows that.'

'Oh, do they?' John laughed. 'Well, I'm the only one who was caught by surprise.'

'You would have known if…if you had left your office,' she dared, looking down. 'We've hardly seen you this week.'

'I know…' He sighed, guilt creeping in. There were still traces of confusion written in her frown, and he hated it.

Silence prevailed again, but this time, it was Anna who would break it. She cleared her throat, straightening the skirt of her ivory, dotted swiss dress with both hands, before looking around to make sure they were alone. 'Is...is anything wrong?'

'Why would it be?' John said in a low, gentle voice, his eyes lingering on her loose hair, on the way her mouth twisted as she tried to come up with a good reason to ask.

'I don't know…' Anna bit her lower lip shyly. One of her hands brushed a stray lock behind her ear. He watched her movements closely. 'It seems like...we don't talk anymore, I mean, like we used to. It almost feels like you've...been avoiding me.'

Her eyes were filled with longing when she dared to look at him again, begging for an answer he didn't have the courage to give. Instead, he chose to evade, for her sake and his own.

'How could I avoid you, Anna?' John said slowly. 'I feel pleasure in your presence. What reason would I have to do such a thing?' She did bring him pleasure. He was being honest then, if ambiguous.

Anna smiled contently, although she was sure he wasn't telling her everything. 'I would be lost without your friendship, Father. We haven't known each other for long, but it feels like forever. It seems like you've always been here with us.'

'Would you like to go for a walk?' John asked out of the blue, taking her by surprise. Her confession had made him blush and feel terribly hot, but also bold. 'When I first arrived here, you promised me walks, and we only walked once.' He raised his brows at her with a playful grin.

'Of course!' Anna nodded, nearly grabbing his hand in her eagerness. She felt so much better now. It was just like before. She was happy. 'Let's go.'

 **x**

'These new potatoes and carrots are some of the best I've seen in years.' Mrs Patmore held a large carrot up to her nose, taking a big whiff as she walked into the kitchen, followed by Ivy, Sister Josephine and Jane. 'Smells as good as any scent I've ever worn.'

'Well, maybe you'll start bottling and selling Eau de Carrot, hm?' Jane asked, taking a seat at the table. 'Is tea ready?'

'Oh Lord! I forgot I had put the kettle on - Oh! Someone turned it off.'

'Maybe it boiled dry,' Ivy suggested.

'Doesn't look like it, oh well...let's serve, shall we?'

'Look, Father John and Anna.' Sister Josephine remarked from the window, watching as the two walked away. 'They are going out of the back gate.'

'Let 'em. They're good friends, and they both enjoy their walks,' Mrs Patmore stated as she poured the tea into mugs.

'Maybe Anna needs advice...poor thing. Her life is not going too well,' Jane sighed. 'Breaking up with that hunk of a man she had…'

'Good riddance to him!' the cook voiced. 'He was not the lad for our Anna. She wasted too many years on that one.'

'What do you mean, Mrs P?' Jane asked.

'I mean looks don't make the man.'

'I don't think he's that good looking anyway,' Ivy interjected.

'Goodness! You are all blind?' Jane shook her head in disbelief.

'I don't care how pretty he is, which he isn't, he's a rude, that one, with a pea brain to boot. He's vain, and he smokes too much too,' the cook insisted.

'Since when do you know him so well?' Jane eyed Mrs Patmore.

'More than I care to, that's for sure. He delivers supplies to the back door once a week. Nosy bugger he is too. Always asking questions that are none of his business. Most times I have to push him out the door,' the cook replied. 'Now, drink your tea. Ivy and I need to start dinner.'

'Do you think they'll be back in time?' Ivy asked, 'Father John and Anna?'

'I think they're grown-ups, and they'll manage. We'll save some for them if they get back too late. Just let them be,' Mrs Patmore said. 'Now peel those potatoes before Christmas, all right?'

 **x**

They couldn't have chosen a better day for a late afternoon walk. The rain of the morning had passed, the air was still, almost unbelievably so. Toward the east, dozens of migrating birds clouded the view, feeding on grains and insects in the fields. Seagulls flew over the water, their cries ushering in the end to the day. To their left, the countryside, at their right, the sea.

They walked side by side, sometimes silent, other times speaking of this or that. The children were always a topic of conversation both liked to discuss. The weather, Mrs Patmore's cooking, Sister Madeleine's foul moods.

'Jeremy...he has such great potential,' John sighed, as they headed to the top of the cliff. The view there was simply breathtaking, and although Anna was the one guiding them, he was the one suggesting this place.

'I think he's one of the brightest boys I ever met, but life has been so unkind to him,' she observed, chancing a look at him. Sometimes she wondered why he used his stick. It was rare the times she saw him limp, even on this uneven ground.

The walk there was undemanding, with an easy step and no rush, and soon they were standing at the top looking out over the sea. The sun was warm on their backs, dipping lower in the sky behind them. He took her arm and guided her away from the edge. There was something about high places that made him feel dizzy and caused his upper lip to sweat. Or maybe it was just being near her. Either way, it felt dangerous.

'I may need your help in the coming days,' he said. 'I have a project of sorts that I'm working on. It might take awhile, but it will be well worth the effort we put into it.'

Anna turned and looked up at him. 'I have nothing but time in the Summer,' she said squinting her nose and shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun. 'So what's up?'

'Something good, something very good. Last week, when Terence...er the Bishop was here I got his permission to sell off the contents of Fr. Benedict's rooms. All of the furnishings and most of the paintings, with the proceeds going towards the purchase of a bus for the orphanage.'

'Can we do that?' Anna gasped. 'I always figured he'd send for them eventually. I mean why would anyone just leave all that behind?'

'That's what I said to Terence. And do you know what he told me?'

Anna shook her head. 'No, what?'

'He said he couldn't because it all belonged to the Blessed Virgin. He had funnelled all of it, all of his gambling winnings, through the orphanage. As Terence said, he bit himself in the end. We can do with it what we please and what we please is to buy a bus for the children.'

Anna clapped her hands together. 'I can hardly believe it! A bus! Oh, the places we can go. John, this is so exciting.'

His breath caught when she said his name. She'd only done it once before and truthfully he was afraid she never would again after this past week of avoidance, but she had, God bless her, she had.

'What do you need my help with? Do you want me to crawl up into the attics to see if there are any more treasures?'

'No...well maybe,' he chuckled, 'but first we need to inventory everything in his rooms and send a detailed list to Terence. He'll look into selling things in the city. Contacting dealers and such.'

Anna's face clouded over. 'I know someone who won't be happy, and she'll be back in a week.'

'I don't think she'll be able to say too much. It's on orders of the Bishop.'

Anna wasn't quite as sure of that. 'She'll put up a fight.'

'Let her. Anna…' John took a moment to think of how to put the next words, but there was a curiosity within him that couldn't be shut away. 'Do you know if...Father Benedict, if he-.'

'If he drank?'

Her question took him by surprise. _So, everyone knew?_ 'Yes, that's exactly it. Terrence told me he had a problem with alcohol and gambling. I just wondered if it was common knowledge.'

'Well, we all knew, but we didn't. I didn't know about the gambling, though.' She shrugged her shoulders. 'Sister Madeleine made sure to hide his flaws.'

'I'm sure, she did... Do you want to sit down?' He pointed out with his stick the perfect spot right ahead of them. From there, they could look down at the beach and also see the sun setting over the fields. She nodded, and they both sat.

'When I was a girl I used to spend the whole summer at the beach. Mum would have to drag me home every day,' she said with a longing smile. 'Good, carefree days… that we only appreciate when we don't have them anymore. I've always dreamed of staying out here until the sun rose.'

'The innocence and simple joys of childhood.'

'Do you long for those past days, Father?' she asked, her eyes on him, tender, lovingly and waiting for his answer.

'Sometimes...I do, don't we all?' John looked ahead. Memories flashing through his mind as if those days had happened just a moment ago. 'I had a very happy childhood, filled with love and kindness. Mother was a seamstress; she worked at home so she was always with me. Always there to advise, to guide me...although I didn't listen to her as often as I should have,' he chuckled before continuing, only to mask the sour taste that had come to his mouth. Going against his mother's words had only lead to problems, to heartbreak, and to immense, unbearable pain.

'Father was a butcher. He worked long hours, very long hours, but he was always there for me too. Ah, yes, I had good parents. A good upbringing. On the weekends we would always go for walks and spend some time together as a family. It was lovely.'

'You don't have any brothers or sisters?'

'I don't. It's only me. And you?' he asked back.

'I have an older sister,' Anna replied, 'but she lives in France. We haven't seen each other for years.'

'You don't keep in touch?'

'We do, by letter, but not often. She was married very young to a French salesman. As mother used to say, he stole her away from us.' She grinned, shaking her head as she did. 'He stole her heart and of course she had to go with him. When someone falls in love so madly like that...there's nothing we can do. Or so they say.'

'Or so they say?' John eyed her playfully. 'Have you never been in love?'

'Madly? No...never. I thought I might be, but…'

'You're talking about Gordon,' he stated, studying her features. It was common to him to see her shrink whenever speaking of Gordon, but he hated when it happened. He wanted to see her happy, always.

'Yes. I was a fool.'

'Of course not. Don't say that,' he said, bringing one hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. It was like silk, soft between his fingertips. Her eyes were on him again, gentle and kind, a look he had desired from a woman so many, many years ago, but only now knew how it felt. It felt...addictive. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand before continuing to speak. 'You hoped for the best, didn't you? There's no wrong in that.'

'There's wrong in waiting for someone to change who they are,' she whispered.

'He seemed to like you very much.'

'He didn't. Not properly. He didn't respect me.'

'No?' he looked at her questioningly, proprietary long forgotten.

'He was always…' She sighed, looking down at her fiddling hands, it was still difficult to talk about this, but she wanted to, with him. 'He was always pushing me to...you know? And I just couldn't, not with him. He didn't respect my decision. I'm glad it happened this way, though, it showed how different we are, how we don't match. We would never be happy together. Do you understand?'

John nodded as she faced him, her eyes somehow pleading, begging for his understanding. And of course, he gave it to her, in a moment like this, alone in the warmth of the setting sun. He was happy too, and happy Anna was free. Free to be herself, free to be respected, to be loved...

'Well, I'm glad he's out of your life too,' John smiled. 'I'm sure you'll find a man who will respect your every wish, your time and space.' He took a deep breath, taking her in. 'You're beautiful, Anna, and loving and so clever...the right man is waiting for you, I know he is.'

'I hope so.'

They both looked ahead then, enjoying the view. The sea was calm, lulled by slow waves, the few people who had been sunbathing on the beach were now gathering their things to leave. His wrist watch hit 8.34 o'clock.

'This place is indeed magic.' He spoke after a moment of comfortable silence. 'I've travelled many places, but honestly, I've never seen such a beautiful sunset.'

'Yes,' Anna nodded. 'It's a sight for sore eyes. We've already missed dinner, haven't we? Maybe we should have brought a sandwich.''

'We will, next time. Are you hungry?'

'I'm not, and Mrs P will save something for us.'

'Bless her. Let's do this again, soon. It's good for my leg,' John said, slapping his knee softly. 'And it's lovely to have your company.'

'Although you spent a week trying to avoid me.' Anna shot him a look, and he couldn't help but swallow hard at her words. She wouldn't insist again, though, instead, she smiled and changed the subject. One day she would know why. 'You do walk a lot by yourself, don't you? I see you coming out here at night sometimes...I don't intend to pry; I just happen to be looking out my bedroom window.'

He smiled with a nod. 'Sometimes we need to be alone with our thoughts. It's not insane to talk to ourselves; we should do it often. It keeps our ideas in order, our objectives. And sometimes we just need space. To think of our troubles, to savour them even, even if it's not a good thing to do.'

'Is there anything troubling you, John? Anything I can help with?'

'You can't help me, but thank you, Anna.'

'You are very loved here, you know?' she told him. 'Don't ever doubt that.'

'I don't.'

'Because...sometimes, I see such sadness in your eyes. I wonder what has happened to you.' She faced him again, with a gentle smile. A smile that showed how much he could trust her. But, it wasn't time yet. There were things he still couldn't talk about. Even to himself, some memories caused too much pain. No. Not yet.

'Well, I was in a war.' He tried to hide behind another excuse, but she knew him so well. Too well.

'I don't mean second-hand sadness, Father.' She looked him in the eye.

'You're too smart for your own good, Miss Smith. Do you know that?'

'I won't insist,' she brought her hands up in wavering manner. 'But you do not deny it.'

'And I don't deny your right to ask but…,' he smiled. 'Maybe one day.'

'We should get back before it gets so dark we can't see the way.'

'Wouldn't little Anna Smith love just that?' he asked her playfully as they stood to their feet.

'She would. She certainly would.'

Their walk back to the Orphanage was slow. Neither wanted this time to end. The darkness of the day was creeping in, and a breeze could be felt now and then, against their faces. She shivered and boldly she leant against him, in search of heat and support, and of everything else. Everything forbidden. It was this place, this setting. His strong pace, his handsome features, tender eyes and that lock of dark hair falling on his brow.

It was the feeling of his hand reaching for hers, so instinctively, so unexpected, so warm. They entwined fingers and matched steps, and their smiles were born in unison. One more glimpse and a shy averting of eyes, only for their hands to hold to each other's stronger than before. To anyone who saw them, this was a pure act of friendship. Two people who cared for each other, enjoying a nice chat and a good walk. To them, deep in their hearts, it was so much more. And, if there were a God watching above, knowing every past and future thing, He would say this was just the beginning.

Soon the building was in view, standing tall against a starry sky. The chapel was small, but the cross was overwhelming, black metal, pointing heavenward; the sight was enough to make them drop their hands, but the smiles were still there, as fresh and alive. How could that be? Neither knew the answer. It was something else, bigger than them, something they couldn't control. It was the falling of two hearts, out of the blue, out of context, out of sense…

'Thank you for the walk.' His voice was low almost a whisper as if someone could hear them from here. 'It was nice, lovely. It's a blessing to live in such a beautiful place as this.'

But nothing could compare to her.

To her golden hair reflecting the last rays of sunlight, to her pale skin, almost one with the fabric of her ivory dress. Her lips were pink, as were her cheeks whenever she smiled. The blue of her gaze as deep as the sea. He caught her looking around then, nodding as she took in the view one last time, oblivious of his stare; and he remained there, watching closely, feeling her with his very soul.

He was lost. He knew that now. He was under a beautiful spell. And in all the wrongness of this, nothing had ever felt so right.

They walked into the kitchen the second after, to a cheery Mrs Patmore and her gossip about an old neighbour who had cheated on her husband with the milkman. They set down to two plates of meat pie and mash that awaited them, and they both ate, listening to the old cook's tales.

 **xxx**

'Here you go, Father. Come right in! Welcome to my favourite day of the year,' Mrs Patmore laughed as she handed him a mug of tea and a raspberry scone the moment he pushed open the kitchen door.

'Really? And what day would that be?' he said with a knowing grin, as he looked around the table - from Ivy to Jane, to Anna, and back to Mrs P. Of course, he knew full well to what she was referring. It was the first day of Sister Madeleine's yearly Retreat. She'd been gone just a few hours, and already the mood of the place had lightened considerably.

At just that moment, Sr Josephine walked in from the garden with a small bouquet of daisies in her hand. 'Crikey! I feel like I can breathe for the first time since I came here. Why can't it be like - .' She stopped in her tracks when she noticed Father John in the room. 'Father...I'm...I'm...'

'Continue breathing easy, Sister. You're among friends.' Father looked at the cheery flowers, and an idea came to him. 'Sister Josephine, did you pick those for the kitchen?' When she nodded, wide-eyed, he held out his hand and asked, 'Would you mind too much if I took them?'

Sister handed the daisies over to him, and they all watched as he took the kitchen shears from their hook on the wall. He cut each flower, leaving a short stem. 'Ah, and just enough!' he exclaimed. Then he walked to over to Sister and tucked a stem into her habit and smiled. 'There.'

He moved on around the table doing the same to each lady. A flower in Ivy's braid and one for Jane's wrist held in place by her watchband. Next came Anna. He gently wove a stem through her ponytail ribbon and smiled on seeing her cheeks colour. Moving on, he stood in front of the feisty cook, and he poked a stem under her cap. Mrs P. took the last flower from the priest's hand, inserting it into the buttonhole of his breast pocket. Now they were all part of the same happy club.

Father John took a seat at the table, between Sr Josephine and Mrs Patmore. Only then he noticed the pieces of paper strewn across the surface. Anna, Jane and Ivy each had a pen in hand and were taking notes. 'What's going on? May I help?'

'We're making plans for the dance, Father,' Jane spoke up.

Anna continued, 'It's this coming Saturday and of course you can help, Father. It's really your party, isn't it? Now here is a list of records Jane will be loaning us,' she said, passing a notebook page over to him. When their fingertips touched, it was his turn to flush.

'You own this many records, Jane? There are sixty listed here!'

'Oh I have more than that,' the brunette laughed. 'These are just the ones fit for 'younger' ears.'

'And some of these we're not really sure of,' warned Anna.

 _'Tutti Frutti?'_ he noted, with a chuckle, going through the list.

'Little Richard is very popular with the teens, Father. Do you know his work?' Jane queried.

'Of course,' he said almost sounding offended. 'I don't live in a cave, Jane. No, I live in a broom closet. I even have a radio in my office. Does that surprise you?'

'A bit, begging your pardon, Father. Do you dance too?' Jane asked.

'Not in awhile,' he said nodding toward his stick, 'but I've been known to kick up my heels,' he confessed with an enigmatic grin. 'I imagine I could still gently sway to the music if the opportunity arose.'

Several moments were spent drinking their tea and nibbling on the raspberry scones, digesting this piece of information.

'Well, your scones are delicious and the company even better but I've promised, or rather, I was made to promise to attend to a football match. I best get going before they all come in here to drag me out,' Father John told them as he rose from the table, wiping his mouth with a napkin and shaking off some crumbles that had fallen on his clothes. 'It's getting hot out. Do you mind if I stow my jacket and vest in your kitchen closet, Mrs P? It will save me running back to my office.'

'Sure, go ahead, Father. Those rascals will wear you out if you let them. Here, I'll take your daisy and save it in water for you too,' the cook joked with a laugh. 'If we can't spare you we can at least spare this little flower.'

'They've never had a fatherly figure before,' Anna remarked. 'It's heaven for them now.'

'I hope so,' Father said, removing his jacket and vest and rolling up his sleeves. Then waving goodbye to the women, he left through the back door to be greeted by a throng boys who were already waiting for him outside.

'He's so good with children,' Jane sighed. 'I wonder if he has lots of brothers and sisters he had to care for when he was young.'

'He's an only child,' Anna replied. 'Maybe cousins, or maybe he's just a natural.'

'One more reason to add to the list of why he's wasted on the priesthood,' Jane continued. 'Handsome men shouldn't be priests, especially when they are as sweet and caring as Father John.'

'If Sister Madeleine were here she would call out blasphemy to the seven winds, she would,' the cook said pursing her lips.

'Whatever. He should be making a woman happy; that's what. Don't you think so, Anna?'

'We should content ourselves with his friendship, Jane. That's what I think.'

Anna's words couldn't be more true, at least for herself. There was so much more she wanted, so much more she dreamed about, but his friendship would have to be enough.

 _Was it, though? Would it ever be? When those dreams became stronger and feelings got out of hand, would what they had now be enough? Only time would tell. Time and those lingering glances they shared._

 **x**

Like the Pied Piper, Father John marched up the hill with his band of lads trailing behind him. He was worn out from the football match between two teams, equally made up of middle-grade boys and the older boys. He had done more running than he should have and his knee was now complaining loudly, but the top of the hill was in sight, and just beyond that, the garden gate.

It was mid-afternoon and hotter than blazes on this open hillside. He had already removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves in the kitchen earlier in the day. His collar was stuffed into a trouser pocket probably creased beyond repair, but he just couldn't find it in himself to care. All he wanted now was to get a tall glass of iced water and to sit down.

'Great game, Father!' Louis slapped him on the back. They were near the top of the hill; his boys had begun passing him. Someone unknowingly knocked his stick out of his hand in their race to the summit. He sighed and reached down to pick it up, but Jeremy beat him to it.

'Here Father,' he said with a slight smile. 'They didn't mean it.'

'Thanks, son...I'm sorry, I mean, Jeremy. I know they didn't. So how're things going? I was glad to see you joined in today.'

The boy shrugged his shoulders. 'Okay, I reckon. Now don't go thinking I'm friends with them or anything. I still think they're wankers, but sometimes I just get...I don't know...'

'Lonesome? Tired of battling everyone?'

Jeremy shoved his hands into his pockets and headed on up the hill.

Father John called after him, 'I'm here, whenever you want to talk.'

Jeremy didn't turn around, but Father saw him nod his head.

Progress.

 **x**

Finally! He rested for a minute, catching his breath before he opened the gate and was greeted by the sight of a picnic table full of little girls from Anna's class.

'Father! Father!' Colette, never a shy one and her shadow, Marie came running, throwing open the gate, each grabbing him around the waist with such zeal he nearly toppled over. 'Play with us, Father.'

'Here now! Can the poor man catch his breath? Let go of him and sit back down,' Mrs Patmore scolded the pair.

Colette and Marie reluctantly did as they were asked. 'I'll be right over, girls,' John told them. 'Just let me get some water first. _And maybe go jump in the sea_ ,' he said to the cook, under his breath. 'Mercy, it's a hot one today!'

'You need what we're all having, Father,' said Mrs P.

'And what might that be? If it's iced, I'm in.'

'Then you go right over there and take a seat next to Anna and her girls,' she directed, with a nudge of her elbow, 'This is her tea party. I'll run and get you a glass.'

'Thank you Mrs P, I believe I'll do just that.' Then he walked over to the table filled with girls doing all manner of girly things and said, 'Shove over, Miss Smith. I hope there's room for one more.'

'There's always room for you, Father. Isn't that right, ladies?' Anna said cheerily.

'Yes, Miss Smith! We love Father John!' they all called out, led by Colette.

John smiled at them sweetly, his eyes coming to rest on Anna. 'I'm so blessed. Never forget, Father John loves all of you just as much.'

'Here you are, Father,' Mrs Patmore said, sitting a large glass of pink lemonade down in front of him. 'Just put your sweets on a napkin. It's all finger food at this tea party.'

There were two tables filled with Anna's girls. Jane and Sr Josephine sat at the other one and waggled their fingers him. That's when he noticed every girl had a pink ribbon in her hair.

When Anna offered him a dainty pink swirled rose-raspberry meringue he was tempted to decline, meringue not being his favourite, but he found he couldn't. Indeed, at that moment and in his weakened state, he doubted his ability to turn down anything she presented him with. 'Is every offering pink?' he asked with a gulp. Anna herself was dressed in a pink sundress. He noticed she was bare-footed. In fact, they all were.

'Why yes, it is, Father. The girls voted on a colour theme and pink won out.' She smiled at him and said with a wink, 'Girls like pink, you know? We voted not to wear shoes either. Because, well it's our party, and we can do that,' she said with a lift of her shoulders. 'So, we have pink tea cakes, pink meringues, pink macarons and pink lemonade, which you're out of,' she continued as she refilled his glass.

'We helped make everything. Tell him, Miss Smith,' shy Alice piped up, then hid her face in her hands.

'I think you just did, sweetheart,' her teacher said with a smile.

'You all did a lovely job, Alice,' Father praised. 'Why, I don't think I've ever attended a nicer tea party. In fact, I know I haven't.'

'Thank you, Father,' said Marie, 'and now do you know what we get to do?'

'No, what?' He only hoped it didn't involve any physical activity.

'Miss Smith bought us paper doll books! Movie star ones! We get to cut them out and play with their fashions!' Colette shouted out, and all the girls began clapping their hands in excitement.

'If anyone can teach you about fashion it's Miss Smith and Miss Moorsum.' He grinned at Anna and noticed she looked as delighted as her students. 'Well, I'll take my leave now and let you ladies get on with it.'

He started to rise from the bench when a cry went up. 'No Father! Don't go! We have scissors; you can help us cut!'

He looked to Anna for guidance. 'They really want you to stay.' Then she leant over and whispered in his ear, _'They love you, and I think...that sometimes they think of you as their daddy, just like the boys do.'_

Of course, he stayed. An hour later he was still sitting at the table, cutting out paper doll fashions with a tiny pair of blunt scissors that barely fit over the tips of his fingers. It was one of the most pleasant afternoons he had spent in a long time. It was for Anna too.

 **xxx**

The tables were pushed aside, save for the one reserved for snacks, the chairs were lining the walls, and the crepe paper ribbons and balloons gave everything a festive atmosphere. It was Dance Party night at the Blessed Virgin.

If the sounds coming from the other side of the swinging kitchen doors was any indication, all did not seem to be running smoothly.

'Alf, you big oaf! Out! Out of the kitchen now and let Ivy get on with her work,' Mrs Patmore shouted. 'You have one job tonight, and that's to help Miss Moorsum with the music, although for the life of me I can't see why she'd let you near her precious records.'

'Because he's got good rhythm and he knows all the newest tunes, Mrs P.,' Ivy defended the young man.

'Got good rhythm? Why he can barely walk from one side of the dining hall to the other without tripping over his own big feet. Now off with you!'

'Wait, Alf,' Ivy called, 'Can you take this bowl of fruit punch and set it on the snack table for me first?'

'What? No. Are you daft, girl? Not the crystal punch bowl! Here Alf, go set these paper cups and plates on the table instead,' Mrs P ordered, her face growing redder by the minute. 'Now scoot!'

As soon as the door swung shut, the cook turned on Ivy and asked, 'What on God's green earth has gotten into him lately? I used to have to beg him to come in here and change a lightbulb. Now he's always underfoot.'

'It's her. She's been flirting with him,' Sister Josephine grinned, cutting up a plate full of cheese at the kitchen table.

Mrs Patmore turned on Ivy, placing her hands on her hips. 'There'll be no frolicking in my kitchen, girl.'

Just then Alf stuck his head back through the door. 'Can I have a dance tonight, Ivy?'

A second after, the fiery cook threw her dish towel at him.

 **x**

'Hey Janie,' Anna knocked on her friend's door before poking her head in. 'How's this look?'

She twirled around in her aqua, full-skirted dress with the little white dots.

'Oh, cute! You haven't worn that for awhile. That colour looks good with your hair. But that scooped neckline needs something. I know, pearls! Here, wear mine.' She took them from their velvet box. 'Turn around; I'll fasten them.'

'Are you sure? I can go back to my room and get my own.'

'But mine has a diamond clasp,' Jane said, wagging her eyebrows as she swept away Anna's long hair.

'All the more reason for me not to wear them. Besides, the dance isn't for our pleasure, Jane; it's for the teens.' Anna stood in front of the mirror, twisting her neck from side to side, getting the full effect of the lustrous strand.

'It is, but it's for ours too. I know I plan on having fun. It would help if we had some men, but we at least have Father John.'

Anna looked at her friend through the mirror. 'And you intend on dancing with him?'

'Well, I won't be shy about asking. He was practically bragging about his dancing skills the other day. I think he'll be disappointed if we don't ask,' Jane decided.

'Oh, Janie. I don't know where your nerve comes from,' Anna said with more than a little bit of envy. 'Now you'd better hurry and get dressed. We want to be there before the children start coming down. What are you wearing?'

Jane grabbed the red dress with the decolletage neckline and big white collar, from the back of her wardrobe door. 'This. Isn't it dreamy? I got it when I was in York last week. I've been saving for it for ages, and it cost an arm and a leg. Oh, I bought this sweet pin too, to put on the collar. That's why I'm not wearing my pearls.' Jane held out a rather large, golden poodle pin, posed with his butt up in the air. A poof of a tail was attached to a tiny spring enabling it to sway furiously with any movement. But what set it off were the faux emerald eyes and the ruby tongue. 'They call this a statement piece. You can borrow it sometime.'

'Um...yeah, thanks, Janie. But right now, you'd better get ready. Are the records already down there?

'Yep. Zip me, will you, doll?'

 **x**

Not ten minutes later, Anna and Jane were in the kitchen cutting the crusts off the bread for three-cornered ham sandwiches.

The door swung open and in walked Father John, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, ready to get to work. He spread his arms wide, 'Ladies, I'm all your's. Give me something to do.'

But the ladies just stood there, some with their mouths hanging open. 'What? What's wrong?' he asked.

'Oh, um...nothing at all,' Jane stammered, nearly breathless. 'That's a very nice wool vest you have on there.'

He looked doubtful. In his effort to dress casually he feared he looked the fool. 'I just thought the children would feel more relaxed if I didn't wear...'

'I like it,' said Anna, with a comforting smile. 'It's a beautiful shade of blue on you. You chose well.'

'I love the stripes. It's jolly. I think you look just lovely,' Sr Josephine pointed out shyly.

'Sounds to me like you passed inspection, Father. Now you can help by getting the condiments out of the ice box and taking them out to the snack table. And these bags of crisps too,' Mrs P ordered.

John grabbed what he was told and took them to the dining hall.

Silence filled the room when he left and then Jane piped up. 'At the risk of sounding redundant, what a damned waste of a good man.'

'Janie! Stop that! If he weren't a priest, he wouldn't have come into our lives in the first place. Don't ever say that again,' Anna begged.

'He's perfect just the way he is, but I know what you mean Jane,' confessed Sr Josephine.

Mrs P turned on her, 'Oh you do, do you? Tell us about that, Sister.'

'Leave her alone. She's still a woman, after all,' Jane stuck up for the little nun.

'Well, I only wish more men took a page from his book,' said Ivy.

'Here, here, but I have a feeling there's only one Father John,' Anna sighed.

 **x**

In the boys room, the mood was gloomy. They were each on their beds, twisting their noses and grumbling about the prospect of the evening awaiting them. A night of dancing and fruit punch wasn't something they were looking forward to. They liked football and all kinds of manly occupations. Even with the quickie lesson this afternoon from Miss Smith and Miss Moorsum, what did they know about dancing? They all agreed, this evening would be torture, pure torture.

That is, all but James Keppler Gunter. The one boy brave enough to spend so much time checking himself out in front of a mirror.

'Come on lads, cheer up! The girls will be putty in our hands,' he exclaimed, brushing back his silky auburn hair for the umpteenth time that night, a skill he had honed and was sure the girls found irresistible.

'You say that because you fancy Pam, that's all,' Philip eyed him. 'I know they're gonna make us dance, and I'm not sure I have the hang of it. I'll probably get laughed out of the place,' Phillip groaned.

'I fancy all ladies in general, my friend, and they fancy me, what can I do?! I'm a natural at dancing too. I nearly swept Miss Moorsum right off her feet today.'

'Ugh,' Louis grimaced. 'You chump.'

'He doesn't see when they turn their faces from him and laugh behind his back,' added Oscar.

'The more you wish it away, the more you want it, isn't that what Mrs P says?' James shot his friends a victorious look. 'Come on, let's get ready! You don't have to dance, but you can't miss it altogether, can you? Sit there like little boys along the wall if you want, but I'm ready to rock and roll!'

'Just you wait until the music starts playing,' Teddy joked. 'He'll be the first one to freeze in place.'

The other boys laughed in agreement.

'Besides, we all know ladies like _Jamaican_ boys the best, they find us…' Teddy continued, rubbing his hands together. 'Exotic.'

'Oh, shut up!' James said exasperatedly, trying to tame one lock of hair that insisted on curling upwards. 'Just get ready, okay! I won't be waiting.'

 **xxx**

The music was playing, but no one was dancing, at least not yet. At one corner of the room, the teen boys stood together, arms crossed, chatting, trying to appear nonchalant, but in reality, they were just trying to screw up enough courage to ask a girl for a dance.

On the other side of the room, the girls were wearing their favourite teen finery, some of them with their hair in fancy updos they'd seen in the fashion magazines. Their pretty faces aglow with rouge and lipstick they'd found in a bag hanging from their doorknob, compliments of an unknown benefactor. They giggled and blushed whenever they caught the boys looking their way, hoping for one of them to break away from the others and ask them to dance.

The younger children sat at a game table under the supervision of Sr Josephine, playing Tiddly Winks, Sorry and Mr and Mrs Potato Head. Dancing, not their prime concern, but rather the extra hour they had been allowed to stay up.

'Alf, please! Be careful with my discs,' Jane pleaded with her hands held in praying manner. 'If something happens to my babies you won't live long enough to regret it.'

'N...n...no problem, Miss Moorsum. I'll be careful,' stammered Alf. This vivacious brunette quite frightened him.

'Don't make him more nervous than he is, Jane,' Anna said as she approached the two, her body already swaying to the sound of Mr Presley.

'It's just a warning. I love my babies as much as my makeup collection, and that's saying something!'

'Babies?' Father John joined them next; an easy smile was gracing his features and one stubborn lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. 'What aren't you telling me, Miss Moorsum?'

'Her records. Her records are her babies, Father,' Anna chuckled.

'Oh! Really?'

'Really. Why is no one dancing? We need to liven things up.' Jane shot her friend a look before telling Alf to change to another song.

'I see you're eager to dance,' John whispered to the swaying Anna as the two walked away from the music table.

'Oh, I love dancing. Especially when the music is this good.'

'There's plenty of teen boys who I'm sure would love to oblige you,' he said gesturing across the room.

'Poor boys, they are just too shy,' Anna laughed. 'I can dance with myself if I need to,' she joked.

'But it's better with two, so much better. Punch?' John asked, placing his warm hand on her shoulder, moving her toward the snack table.

 **x**

'If only this punch had alcohol in it.' The boys had moved their location nearer the food. James soon regretted his words as a yelp escaped his lips.

'This is a Church establishment, young man, not a pub! Remember that!' It was Mrs Patmore, who had slapped the boy across the back of the head, messing his hair in the process.

'Mrs P!' James complained 'My hair!'

'If you brush it one more time it's sure to fall out anyway.' Philip mocked his friend.

'Pam would hate that; she would! Poor old bald James!' Teddy laughed, and the other boys joined in.

'Shut up, you. What do you know about fashion?' James rebutted, checking himself on the window glass.

'And you know too much,' Teddy conclude.

'Don't listen to them, James.' Anna came to the boy's aid. 'Girls like a well kept boy.'

'Gordon was well kept,' Jane came from behind her, whispering in her ear, 'and you dumped him anyway.'

Anna rolled her eyes at her friend, but before she could reply, Jane took one of Father John's hands, pulling him with her.

'Let's open this ball, Father,' she said with a cheeky smile. 'If we don't no one will dare!'

'I'm not sure -' John tried to pull away from her grasp, but Jane Moorsum was not one to take no for an answer.

'Oh come on,' she insisted, taking his stick and handing it to Anna. 'Weren't you bragging about your dancing skills? Time to prove yourself.'

Unsure of what to do, the priest smiled at Jane, before looking at Anna, the one he really longed to dance with.

'Go, Father, go!' She was cheering on him, as was everyone else, and that was enough for him to make up his mind.

'All right, Miss Moorsum, let's dance.' With that, he placed his hand on her back and guided her on the dance floor, proving to everyone his dancing skills hadn't been forgotten. 'That's an unusual pin you're wearing, Jane. Oh, look it's tail is wagging at me!'

Within seconds, James had crossed the room and ask Pam to dance. Others soon followed. The ice had been broken. The dance had truly begun.

 **x**

'Look at that.' Mrs Patmore gestured toward Alf and Ivy. 'He's dancing all over her feet. She probably won't be able to walk in the morning.'

'It would earn him a slap if I were her,' Sister Louise laughed as she watched the pair.

'Poor lad, I think he's a bit soft in his head, don't you? I mean, he's a good boy but...how someone can be so clumsy is beyond me,' the cook said, tapping her toe to Little Richard's rendition of Tutti Frutti.

'Remember when he first arrived here?' Sr Louise asked, her cheeks turning red as she tried to suppress more laughter.

'How could I forget! He broke plates, glasses; we always had to be reminding him to tie his shoes. He must have fallen down the stairs three times a day. Goodness me that boy was a mess, and he hasn't changed much!'

The music changed to a slow tune, _You Send Me_ , by Sam Cook.

'Oh look at Father John! He's turned into the life of the party,' Sr Louise point to the priest dancing with young Colette and Maria, both with their arms around his waist. 'That would never happen if Fr Benedict were still here.'

'Oh! I shudder to think!'

 **x**

'Mrs Beryl Patmore!' Father John walked toward the two women, having just danced with Sister Josephine, who was now resting on a chair, her face flame red.

'Oh, look at him! I know something grand is coming when people say my whole name,' the cook chuckled.

'Something grand, indeed!' The priest smiled and held out his hand to her. 'Something in the form of dance?'

'Oh Lordy! You want me to dance with you?'

'I most certainly do! And then, if Sister Louise grants me the honour, I'll be dancing with her too,' he replied with a wink.

'It would be my pleasure, Father.' Sister winked back at him.

'You sound more like a libertine than a priest! I like it!' Mrs Patmore laughed as she stood up from her chair with Father's help. 'Let's dance then. And don't let this go to your head, but I've never danced with such a handsome man.'

'You'll make me blush, Mrs P.' Father John grinned as he led her to the middle of the room. 'I never danced with a red-headed woman, either.'

'See! We are each other's first.' The cook joked, and he couldn't help but laugh.

Anna was dancing too; her partner was Teddy and his big, proud smile. He was telling her his plans about wanting to become a priest, a good one, like Father. Although she was listening to everything the boy said, her eyes were on John, and his on her. He had danced with nearly every female in the room, but no yet Anna. She wondered what he was waiting for.

 **x**

'Miss Smith?' His voice caught her by surprise. The evening was coming to an end; long ago the sleepy younger children had been toddled off to bed. Tired teens and adults now clustered in groups sipping on the last dredges of punch and picking over what was left of the ham sandwiches. The dance floor was empty; no one seemed to have any strength left to move, but the music played on, one slow burning tune and then another.

'Father?' she looked up at him from her chair as he leant down close to her. Long ago he had removed his blue striped vest, it had happened after the dance with Mrs P, she reckoned. Truth to be told, she was taken aback with his towering presence wearing nothing but his white opened collared shirt tucked into his black dress trousers and his black braces. There were beads of sweat on his brow and upper lip; something about that made her...blush.

'Are you too tired for one last dance?' he asked with that cheeky grin of his, half daring, half shy; his hand was now reaching for hers whatever her answer would be.

'Of course not, Father. I thought you'd forgotten me,' she said with a slight pout.

John pulled her with him, leaving the other women behind, too exhausted to even notice anything more than proper about this moment between them.

'How could I? I was saving the best for last.'

His words caught her by surprise, but for him, they had the exact same effect. For a second he feared he was letting himself show too much, but her eyes, her smile, her very being, gave him no other choice.

It was then that ' _Only You'_ by The Platters, began to play. It the final song of the night. It's seductive melody and words making it more meaningful than just another dance. John placed his hand low on her back and took a deep breath when he felt the warmth of her skin and the sway of her hips through her dress. His palm melted into the curve of her body.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the sensations of that one dance, of his touch, of his arms. The best indeed, was saved for the last.

 _...Only you can make this change in me_

 _For it's true, you are my destiny_

 _When you hold my hand I understand the magic that you do_

 _You're my dream come true, my one and only you…_

 _~ Only You written by Buck Ram 1955_

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:**_ A day at the beach and Sister Madeleine's return.

 _ **Thank you for reading :)**_


	9. Chapter 8

_**A/N:** Hello, hello, friends! Who fancies a day at the beach? And what about some not so proper findings in Father John's office? ;) Hope you all enjoy this chapter and another set of adventures. It's never boring at The Virgin Blessed Orphanage, and we hope you find it so :D Let us know with a review what you think and what you suspect it will happen next! We love to read your speculations, it's so much fun! _

_We wish you all have a great weekend xXx_

 ** _~ Terrie & Handy ~ _**

_**Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1-7._

* * *

 _ **Blessed**_ _~ Chapter 8_

 **x**

 _Every now and then_

 _give your soul a break_

 _by walking barefoot_

 _in the sand._

 **x**

Revolving, spinning, in a dance meant to last a lifetime. They moved rhythmically to the slow tune, the music a mere echo in the distance. Their bodies grew closer, the energy so intense; his hands became possessive, and hers melted with his warmth. It was one of those never-ending moments, where every boundary seemed to shatter. They were alone in the middle of a crowded room...in a world of their own.

Her eyes were gentle, and lovingly, his were fiery and bold, focusing on the curve of her smile. He wanted to kiss her so badly, and according to his will, he pulled her to him, leaning down, closer and closer still…

She tasted sweet, sweeter than he had ever imagined. He longed to savour her for the rest of his life. If only...

And then, he fell, and with a startle, he woke up. Sweat was dripping down his brow and chest, his breathing erratic and wild, his fists grabbing at the sheets with great force.

 _Not again_.

But yes. It had happened again, as it had so many times in the past week. A dream that taunted him, a dream that made his forbidden longing for her almost unbearable.

John looked at the illuminated dial of his clock. _4:45 a.m_. He needed air.

Not thirty minutes later he found himself wandering outside, in the still darkness of a morning yet to come. When he reached the cliff, overlooking the sea, he dropped to his knees. He prayed then, he begged for forgiveness, for clarity, and for guidance...he implored God for a sign.

His sign would come. In the distance, he heard her calling his name. And then, the light of a new day began to rise on the horizon, as bright as he had ever seen.

 **x**

'Father?' Anna walked to him, carrying a basket of fresh country flowers. The early morning brought the scent of the sea breeze, filling their lungs with the salty air. Nature was damp, foggy, and the birds had just begun to sing. 'Are you okay?'

He nodded, rising to his feet, his knees wet from kneeling so long. When he faced her, she was frowning worriedly, questioningly. 'I...I couldn't sleep. I thought a walk would do me good. I guess I lost track of time.'

She nodded. 'I see. I couldn't sleep past six either. I thought picking flowers for the chapel would do more for me than tossing and turning in bed until breakfast.'

'It seems like we both have the same troubles,' he told her softly.

'Do we?'

'I mean, with sleeping,' John replied, looking down at his feet.

'Oh! Yes...it seems.'

He had been right. It was a dream, much like his own, that had shaken her from sleep. Seeing him here, now, had been a very strange coincidence, one Anna was afraid to question, to think through to its conclusion. When she'd seen him in the distance she had wondered if she was dreaming again...but it was too real, and her feelings had been mixed. In dreams, she was always sure. Sleeping she never questioned their...passion.

'Have you eaten? Had your coffee?' she asked, trying to shut away her thoughts. Normality had always been the best cure for an awkward situation.

'Not yet. I...not yet,' he said, running his hand through his hair, his eyes on everything but her. Not for long, though. Never for too long.

'Let's go then, I'm getting hungry,' she suggested. 'Aren't you?'

'Yes, I think I am.' John faced her again, and her soft features made him smile. 'And we can pick more flowers on our way back. I'll help you,' he offered, easiness returning. It was her, in her lavender dress and matching cardigan. Her neatly done side braid and rosy cheeks. The light of the newborn day reflecting the radiance of her ocean eyes, and of her beautiful, kind soul.

'Perfect. If you ever need to pick flowers by yourself you'll know then,' she said as they walked back together, side by side.

'I wouldn't dream of taking that job from you…' He chuckled, watching as she would lean over with almost every step, only to add another flower to her basket. Lavender, daisies, poppies, cornflowers, anything that was colourful. 'You're the best bouquet maker ever. I'm only worthy to help.'

'Then help!'

He laughed and joined her. His anxious thoughts of the past few hours receded. It was only his Anna he saw now. Yes, he admitted, in his heart, she was his Anna. Her delicate hands touching petals and caressing stems. Her smile whenever she found the perfect one. Her shyness when he reached for a white daisy and stuck it into her braid, telling her that white suited her; it contrasted with her yellow hair. It matched her spirit, her kindness and integrity, but that he wouldn't tell her just yet. But, he decided then, if there were a flower that was Anna Smith, it would be the Myrtle. Delicate. Small. Star like shape. Sweet perfume. _True love_.

 **xxx**

'I think I might try to find a new bathing. What do you think, Jane?'

'I think you just bought one on sale at the end of last Summer. A lovely two-pieced one with ruffles on the bum. Did you forget about that?'

Anna sighed, 'No, I remember, but that one's a bit revealing, and well, we'll have teenage boys with us. I just don't know.'

'To say nothing of the one very...er...virile, scantily-clad man we'll have in our midst,' Jane offered.

That comment caused Sister Josephine to choke on her tea.

'Here now!' cried Mrs Patmore, patting Sister on the back.

Anna shook her head at her friend. 'Jane stop that talk, right now. It's disrespectful, and you know it. He probably doesn't even have swim trunks.' She handed her napkin to the red-faced young nun. 'Here, love. She only says those things to get a reaction out of people. She should be ashamed of herself.'

'Come on, Anna. Don't deny that you've had the same thoughts,' Jane challenged.

'Jane Moorsum, you take that back, I have not!' Anna replied, but truth be told she had, and couldn't help covering her pink cheeks at the thought of the priest in beach attire.

'Oh my!' It all just dawned on Ivy. 'Now you've got me thinking about it.'

The room exploded in nervous giggles.

Moments later, when Father John pushed open the door, it sounded like he had walked in on a hen party. 'Hello, ladies. Do you mind if I join you for tea?'

'Ah, Father! Sit right down. You're just the man to join us,' said Jane. 'Anna and I were talking about taking the bus to Scarborough first thing in the morning to try and find something for the children to wear to the beach. It won't be an easy task, but we thought we'd have better luck in a resort town. So what will you be wearing, Father?'

Sister began choking again. 'Steady on, Sister,' Mrs P said.

'I'm not sure. To be honest, I never even thought about that, Jane. I suppose I should, though,' he said with a frown. 'I'll think of something.'

'Of course, you will, Father,' replied the cook, handing him his tea. 'Now, did you hear the bad news? Mr Rivers just left for the train station to pick up the old crow, more's the pity.'

Everyone knew who she was talking about. A round of groans followed.

 **x**

'Anna, wait up.' John called after her as she left the kitchen. When she stopped, he guided her down the hall, out of earshot from anyone else. 'I need to ask a favour of you.'

'Of course, Father. What is it? You know I'll do anything.' The warmth of his hand on her shoulder was playing havoc with her hormones.

'This is a personal request, Anna, and I realise what I'm going to ask is presumptuous.' He swallowed hard. 'I need to ask you, as a friend, if you could try to find some bathing trunks for me while you're in Scarborough?' There, he said it.

'I...I guess I can do that, but why don't you just come with us? You'd be most welcomed. It'd be fun. You know best what you want.' In fact, his request did make her feel a tad uncomfortable. Jane would have a field day with this.

'It would, but the problem is, I have a meeting scheduled with the new priest in the village, Father William. He's just starting out and the Bishop asked me to drop in on him and see how he's doing. So that's out, but I really will understand if you don't want to. If it feels too awkward.'

'No, it's perfectly fine, Father. I'll find you something nice...and Jane is really good at -,''

'No, not Jane! I'm sorry. I think I'd feel better having you pick it out, if you don't mind.'

'Right, I understand completely,' Anna nodded.

'Great, just not something too...' He was at a loss for words.

'Revealing?' Anna took pity on him.

He looked relieved; she understood. 'Exactly. And stop by the office when you get a minute. I'll give you money for all of this.' He gave her shoulder a squeeze. 'I knew I could count on you.'

'Always.'

'Yes, always, Anna.'

 **xxx**

The had week passed so quickly, too quickly and before they knew it Mr Rivers was delivering Sister Madeleine, bag and baggage at the front door. Sadly, her time away had not helped her mood, as Father John had hoped for. He could tell that much from his office window, by the way she stood waiting for Rivers to take her luggage out of the truck, her stance an annoyed one with her arms crossed around her middle. So much for the curative powers of the Retreat.

Not two minutes ago, Anna had left the office with the money for the beach supplies she would buy tomorrow and now, there was someone else at the door.

'Um, Father?' It was Teddy who called for him. 'Mrs P's calling for dinner. Sister Madeleine has arrived.'

'I see that, Teddy, thank you.' He smiled watching the scene outside. The old nun was gesturing and Rivers pretended not to hear a word she was saying.

'Father?'

'Yes, Teddy?'

'Do you like being a priest?'

The question took him by surprise and he turned to face the boy at once. 'I do…' he replied. 'Why do you ask?'

'Because…' Teddy sighed, walking in with his eyes on his nervous hands. 'Well, I want to be a priest too. I just want to be sure it's not too boring. They all say it is.'

Father John chuckled at the boy's worry. 'Oh _they_ do, do they? Well, _they_ are wrong. It's not boring at all, Ted,' he said, walking to the boy and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'Life is only boring if you make it so, no matter what path you choose.''

'They say that…' The boy looked back, making sure no one could hear them, his ears and his cheeks felt hot. Father knew what was to come. 'A life without girlfriends isn't worth it.'

'Well, it's not if that's how you feel. You have to think well about it. Do you think you would like to spend your life without, well, without a girlfriend?' Father questioned. 'Do you think God is worth such a sacrifice? That your love for God is stronger than anything?'

'Yeah…I guess,' the boy's lips thinned in deep thought.

'You'll have time to think about it. Don't worry. But don't forget, being a priest shouldn't be a hard task. It should come from a higher calling, you need to be sure that that's what you want to do for the rest of your life. It shouldn't be difficult, and it won't, if that's what your heart tells you.'

Father smiled down at Teddy, squeezing his shoulder gently, supportively.

'Thank you, Father. If I'm ever a priest I want to be just like you. Everyone's going to like me and think I'm fun.' The boy replied with a big grin before wrapping his arms around Father's waist.

'Oh!' John laughed, answering the hug. 'I'm glad you think that, son. Now go, we'll talk again. Mrs P doesn't like when we're late for meals, and now that Sister Madeleine is here…'

The boy nodded and left running. John watched him go. His advice had been right, Terence had taught him that a long time ago. The problem was, it hadn't been like that for him. It hadn't been and it would never be.

With a sad sigh, John walked out of his office. _Perhaps all his doubts had begun then...when he decided to be a priest to escape._

 **xxx**

'I had forgotten how noisy this place is,' Sister Madeleine complained as she sat at the dining table. The prayers had just been said, and everyone had begun to eat. 'My poor ears.'

'We missed you too, Sister,' Mrs Patmore teased. 'So much so I made your favourite dish because I knew you would be here.'

'You know I don't like fish,' the nun turned up her nose. 'Especially cod.'

'Is that a fact? So I've been wrong all these years?' the cook giggled.

'It is one of my favourites though,' Father John intervened with a smile. 'I could eat cod all day, every day.'

'Eat up then, Father!' Mrs Patmore did love a man with a healthy appetite.

'And by the way, Sister Madeleine, welcome back to our table.' Father spoke in a cheery voice. 'Did you have fun at your Retreat?'

'I didn't go for fun,' the nun replied shortly, as she cut up her boiled potatoes. The only thing she would probably be eating.

'Of course. Did you enjoy it then?' the priest insisted.

'As much as possible. It was silent and calm. A taste of Heaven.'

'Well, yes, I suppose it was,' he said, heaping a mound of butter on his own potatoes. 'Much different than here - an orphanage, filled with children.'

'Exactly.' Sister Madeleine glared at the entire room.

He shared a look with the cook, before finding Anna's eyes on him at the next table. She was smiling, and he answered back in the same way. They were like this whenever he sat away from her, shared smiles and winks, almost as if speaking with their eyes. It was odd, to feel so comfortable with someone, to feel so connected, so at ease. Odd because he didn't know it was happening, it was instinct and it was strong. It didn't give him the time to think about how dangerous all these gestures could be, what they were becoming, what they already were.

'...and then, I have to put in the order for the weenies for beach day.' Mrs Patmore's voice came to his ears in an echo, and he realised then Anna wasn't looking anymore. It was him, watching her as she ate and chatted with her pupils.

'Wait! You're not really going to the beach are you?' Sister Madeleine asked in a shocked tone and that made him shake away his thoughts to answer her.

'We had that settled before you left, Sister.'

'I thought you would come to your senses, Father.' The nun rolled her eyes.

'I would, if it was a bad idea.'

'It'll be fun, Sister Madeleine,' Sister Anne spoke, trying to encourage her superior. 'And the children are so excited about it.'

'Of course they are! They like nothing more than to run wild,' Sister Madeleine admonished.

'They won't run wild, not for one second,' the priest assured, looking over at the nun.

'I'm sure you'll be the one running after them then.'

'I won't have to, Sister. They know how to behave,' he told her in a serious voice, not at all appreciating her mocking tone.

'I just hope nothing too bad happens, because -,'

'Nothing bad will happen, Sister. Only good things will and it will be a wonderful day at the beach for all of us going. A memorable day. And you are invited to come, if you want.'

'I most certainly will not,' the nun scoffed, crossing her arms.

'You'll be the one missing out then,' Father John said,finishing off his cod and reaching for another piece. 'You and Mrs P and Ivy.'

'But I'll go the next time,' Ivy chimed in.

'You will, Ivy. And I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun too.' He gave the young woman a gentle smile. 'Now, let's all eat in peace. Shall we? Good.'

 **xxx**

'Where did you get to? I've been looking all over this store,' Jane pounced as soon as she spotted Anna. Scattergood's, the biggest store in Scarborough, was known for having the best in beachwear. 'Say, did you just come out of the men's department?'

'Uh, maybe. I was just looking around.' The last thing Anna wanted was for Jane to know she was on a special errand for Father John. She'd never let it rest.

'Just looking, huh? What's in the bag?'

'Nothing that would interest you. I only picked up something for my Uncle Peter for his seventieth birthday,' Anna held the bag closer to her chest.

'You're a terrible liar, sweetie. Now let me see,' Jane insisted, holding her hand out.

Anna relented because she knew her friend would nag her to death if she didn't. 'There, see? It's for Uncle Peter.'

Jane pulled out a pair of men's white bathing shorts followed by a navy blue and white striped cabana shirt with white trim. 'My, my, Uncle Peter is quite the sporty dresser for a man of seventy, isn't he? What gives, love?'

'Oh, all right. If you must know, Father John asked me to pick something up for him to wear to the beach. He was shy about it and didn't want anyone else to know. So don't you let on that I told you.'

'You hardly told me, I had to drag it out of you. I could have helped you pick something out, you know, something a bit...zippier, befitting a man of his, uh, stature.' Jane didn't like being left out of the loop. 'I do have one question, though - how did you determine the size, hm?'

'I...I took a guess, okay? And _zippier_ is exactly what he didn't want. That's why he asked me, Jane,' Anna explained. 'I'm hungry, are you? Let's go find something to eat as soon as we pick up the rest of our packages. I hope they have them all wrapped by now. We can catch an earlier bus back to Whitby.'

'Sounds like a good idea. I'm excited for the older children to see their bathing suits and the younger ones should like their shorts and halter tops for the girls. I wish we could have afforded suits for everyone, but their time will come,' Jane said with a smile.

Minutes later, surrounded by their packages, they sat enjoying tea at an outdoor cafe. 'Gosh, I hope Father John likes his bathing suit,' Anna said as she looked out over the sea, her chin resting in her hand. 'I'd hate to let him down.'

'Yeah,' replied Jane with a dreamy sigh. 'I'm sure he'll approve. I guarantee we will.'

 **x**

As soon as Anna and Jane returned from their Scarborough shopping trip, Anna sought out Father John. She was anxious to see his reaction to the purchase she'd made for him, but she found his office door shut; a rare occurrence. She knocked softly. No answer. She and Jane had returned early, maybe he was still in the village meeting with the new priest. Anna poked her head in the office and not seeing anyone, quickly placed the bag containing the swim suit on the desk.

'Anna, you're back already?'

She turned toward the direction of his voice to see him standing in the bathroom doorway. He had on his trousers, but was bare-chested and bare-footed and held a straight razor in one hand. He looked very surprised to see her as he quickly grabbed his shirt from a hook on the door and slipped his arms into the sleeves.

For a moment Anna just stood there staring at him, her mouth hanging open. 'Oh...oh golly, I'm so sorry, Father. I knocked... I looked in and didn't think you were here.' Then she pointed to his desk, 'So I...I put your bathing suit on the desk. I'll just leave now...' she said, making a fast beeline for the door.

'No, wait, please, I'll only be a minute,' he said, trying to overcome his embarrassment. 'I was in a rush this morning and never got around to showering or shaving, and I wanted to take time before dinner.' He splashed water on his face and towelled it off before exiting the tiny bathroom. 'There, fit for human consumption again,' he smiled, buttoning his shirt.

'Well, _almost_. Come here.' And before she even realised what she was doing, Anna reached up and wiped a missed bit of shaving cream from his ear. She froze then, fearing she had been too bold but apparently not, for he just smiled at her sweetly.

'Now, let's see what we have here,' Father said, walking over to the desk and picking up the bag.

'I hope it's okay. And I hope it fits. I had to guess on the size,' Anna told him, her cheeks colouring brightly.

He couldn't meet her eyes as he reached into the bag and pulled the white shorts out first, holding them up in front of him. 'Oh yes, I think they'll be just fine. And what's this? A shirt too?'

'It's called a cabana jacket. I thought it would look nice and make you feel more comfortable, you know?'

'I do. And thank you, Anna. I could never have asked this of anyone else.'

Anna was suddenly filled with guilt. _Oh, why did I have to be so weak and tell Jane?_ Before she could give it another thought the dinner bell rang.

'Ah, just let me finish getting dressed and I'll walk with you to the dining hall. Will you wait for me?'

'Of course, Father.' And she waited as he entered his bedroom.

 **xxx**

Anna and Father John had spent the better part of the day inventorying the furnishings, paintings and trinkets the previous director had left behind. It was taking longer than John would have liked, in fact, he had hoped to get it done during Sister Madeleine's absence. That hadn't been accomplished, unfortunately. She wasn't at all happy with the sell-off of her precious Fr Benedict's belongings but what could she do? They weren't his, were they? The Bishop had sanctioned the sale, and she dare not go against the Bishop.

'Hmm…I think I have the descriptions, if not the names of the paintings and the artists now. There are eight from the office and the main lobby?'

'I have one other one in my room, _The Tears of St. Peter_ , but it's just a copy, although a very good one. I doubt it's worth much...I might keep it.'

'Of course,' she smiled. 'We don't have to get rid of everything. I bet these eight alone will be enough to buy that bus.'

'Hello, what do we have here?' John said from his perch high on a ladder. He was investigating the very top shelf of a floor to ceiling display case.

'What?'

John handed down a small ornate carved chest for her to take and climbed down. Anna placed it on the desk, and they stared at it. 'This could be something really good,' she said running her hand over the top, 'but it's locked. You didn't see a key?' She looked up at him hopefully.

With a cheeky grin, he held up a tiny silver key between his fingers, 'You mean like this one?'

'Yes! Open it! Oh, this is so exciting!' Anna could hardly keep herself from jumping up and down.

John took the key and placed it in the hole and turned it. It fit! He slowly lifted the lid. Inside, on a bed of red satin, were twelve hand carved miniature ivory netsukes, of the erotic variety, very, very erotic. John gulped, 'Oh my…' and he looked up at Anna to gauge her reaction.

She picked one up. It was an intricately carved ivory penis and testicles, with a man and woman copulating around the base. It was no larger than Anna's thumb. She gasped when she realised what she was looking at. 'Are they...Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?' she asked, breathlessly.

'You are, and I could be wrong, but I have a feeling we might have hit the jackpot with this little stash.'

'You think? Have you ever seen anything like this before?' Anna asked.

'Uh, once. In a museum,' he was quick to add. 'I'll call Terence tonight and have him ask around about these. Anna, I don't want to get our hopes up, but we just might be sitting on a small treasure trove. Father Benedict was quite the eclectic collector.'

'And we still have his suite to go through. Oh my goodness, John!'

'Alright, let's not get too excited and definitely don't say anything yet. These might just be cheap imitations, and maybe there's nothing more, but I think Father Benedict had very exotic and expensive tastes.'

'I think you're right, let's just take a breath and continue with our inventory,' Anna said.

'Good idea. I'll lock it up again and put it back on the top shelf we wouldn't want any of the sisters or the children laying eyes on this.'

That done, Anna attempted to resume normal conversation. It wasn't every day she found herself viewing erotic art with her priest. 'So, you never told me about your meeting…'

'Hmm?'

'With the new priest.'

'Father William?' he asked, finding a collection of cut glass nesting boxes on another shelf.

'Is there any other new priest in town?' Anna giggled. 'How was it? Is he nice?'

'He seems to be a good lad. Kind hearted, grounded.'

'A good lad? He can't be that young, can he? If he's a priest already and has his own church. I really don't know how long it takes but...'

'Well, he's a lad to me. He's closer to your age than mine,' John chuckled.

'As if you're old.' Anna shook her head with a smile, rising from the chair and taking the boxes he was handing down to her. 'I wonder if these are special?'

'I don't know, and I _am_ older.'

'Older doesn't mean old,' she told him shortly, and he knew better than to argue about it. But then, it was good she thought like that...not that it would make any difference really, but it was good anyway.

At that very moment, they heard the sound of footsteps in the hall, coming closer and closer to the office, and immediately they recognised to whom they belonged. Both faced each other knowingly, trying hard to suppress a laugh at their own reaction.

'Father - Oh! Miss Smith? What are you doing here?' The nun grimaced as soon as she saw Anna.

'Sister.' The young teacher nodded. 'I'm helping Father with the inventory.'

'Of course, you are,' Sr Madeleine sneered, her voice practically dripping with venom. She found herself developing a distaste for the teacher. She now regretted not dismissing her long ago.

'What can we help you with, Sister?' Father John asked, coming down the ladder and facing the woman.

'Well, I came to help you, but I see I'm not needed here,' she replied, eyeing a rich tapestry, which was rolled up and laying on the desk. She couldn't help but run her fingertips over it reverently. 'Father loved this one so,' she said with a melancholy sigh. 'I remember the day it arrived. He sat in his desk chair for hours on end admiring it. 'It's just not right.'

John smiled understandingly; he wasn't without pity. Even so, he was compelled to respond, saying, 'This one tapestry, if it's value is as high as we suspect, will go a long way toward providing for the orphanage, Sister. That alone should lighten your heart.'

Sister Madeleine glared at the priest, turning on her heels, exiting the room.

After she had left, John stood there for a moment in deep thought. 'You know, I think we might see what that painting in my room is worth, after all. At one time it spoke to me, but maybe I don't need it anymore.'

 **x**

Not long after leaving the director's office, Sister Madeleine walked into the kitchen, to the usual hustle and bustle of pots, pans and chatter.

'Must this kitchen always be so noisy?' the nun complained as she sat down at the table. 'Ivy, serve me some tea.'

'Must you always be so doom and gloom?' The cook eyed her disparagingly. 'And it's not noisy; it's called friendly and fun.'

'Father John told you that once and now you can't stop bragging about it ever since.' Ivy giggled as she placed a mug of tea before the _madre_ superior.

'That sounds like something he'd say,' Sister Madeleine disdained. 'Who else would sound so idiotic?'

'Ivy, go into the garden and pinch off some herbs. I need to talk to Sister.'

Ivy scowled because she didn't like to miss anything, but did as she was told.

'Now, come on, tell me. Why the bad mood? Not that it's ever any good but…' Mrs Patmore asked, sitting down at the table and allowing herself to rest her feet for a few minutes. Sister Madeleine was as near to an arch enemy of anyone she knew, but she'd known her forever, and that counted for something.

'I just don't like them touching what belongs to Father Benedict. Miss Smith is there too.'

'He trusts her. I mean, who doesn't? Our Anna is the kindest most trustful soul around, and they're good friends. Just you like and Father Benedict were, who, as it happens used orphanage funds to buy all those extravagant things. So no, _none_ of it belongs to him.'

"Who told you that? How do you know?' Sister was ready to deny it all.

'Father told me. He told the other nuns too. I guess he didn't want us to think he was selling it all off on his own when the Bishop told him to. You knew this. I just don't understand how you condoned it all those years. You had to have known what he was doing, and you claim this place is so precious to you - if it had been anyone else squandering that money you would have been running around pulling your hair out. Why? Why did you cover for the old fool?'

'Don't you dare say that! Don't sully his name. Father Benedict was a saint; you just didn't know him like I did.'

'As if! He was a drunk who couldn't make it down to his office on most days and when he did he never left. He made us all his personal slaves, and the children only ever saw him at his wretched Sunday mass.' Mrs Patmore laughed ironically.

'He knew the word of God and followed it,' Sister Madeleine persisted.

The cook shook her head. 'Must I have to say it again? He was a drunken, lazy man who misused the institution's finances. Now we know. How is that following the word of God?'

'He had troubles in his life; we shouldn't judge,' the nun said sharply, the tea before her turning cold.

'If that's how you feel, then, you should live by it more often.'

'Why do I waste my time talking to you?' The nun rose from her chair. 'Where's Sister Josephine?'

'She's helping Sister Rose with the little ones,' Mrs Patmore answered.

'Her place is here, not with the toddlers.'

'Who says so? Father John told her she could spend more time there if she wished and if I didn't need her. Sister Josephine loves the little ones.'

'Father John, Father John…I get so sick of that man's name. Can he do no wrong?' Sister Madeleine left in a mindless rage, the kitchen door swinging wildly on its hinges.

 **xxx**

'I'm glad she didn't understand what was going on. Bless her.' Sister Rose sighed as she looked out of the kitchen window. The cook and her helpers nodding their heads in agreement. It was a disappointing day for them.

The couple who had been interested in Rosie had just informed Father John that they had found a newborn to adopt, in another institution. Rosie was a bit too old for their liking. But Rosie was only two.

'It's unfair if you think about it. I mean, I understand people prefer babies but what about the other ones? They have the same right.' Mrs Patmore said, her voice becoming agitated.

'And poor Rosie, she's such a doll,' Ivy remarked. 'She's the sweetest babe I've ever met.'

'Not as sweet as a newborn, apparently,' Sister Josephine added twisting her nose.

The four women continued to watch the scene outside.

Upon receiving the news, Father John immediately felt the need to see Rosie. It was the beach day, but they weren't leaving until later and right now he was sitting on the grass with the two-year-old, giving her the attention he felt she deserved in a moment like this, even though she had no inkling what had happened. He loved Rosie, and as time went by he loved her more and more.

'Bee!' the little girl shouted with a giggle, as she pointed out a tiny bee that had landed on a daisy.

'It's a bee, yes, very good,' John clapped, smiling.

'Bad, bad bee,' Rosie scolded with a frown.

'Bad? No, no, not bad, Peanut. See, she's working hard.'

'It hurts.' The girl pouted, trying to make him see her point.

'Well, if you mess with her, yes,' John explained. 'She doesn't like when people interrupt her hard work. Look, see her kissing the flowers? She's gathering the flower's juice so she can feed the other bees.'

'Wosie likes flowers. Faver too. Lilies! Wosie and Faver like lilies.'

'We certainly do, my sweet child.' He chuckled, pulling the girl onto his lap. 'Come here, why don't you give me a kiss?'

Rosie did as she was asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a loud one on his cheek, before sitting down between his legs and leaning back against him.

'You're precious, Peanut. So precious,' John told her in a low, tender voice, placing a kiss on her yellow hair, and instinctively reaching to straighten her skirt over her chubby knees. 'They're the ones missing out. I shouldn't be happy for this, but I am. I am.'

'Wosie's happy,' the girl spoke, looking up at him with a cheeky grin.

'Are you?'

'Yeah…' she nodded, one of her hands coming up to pat his chin. 'With Faver.'

Her words made him teary, and he closed his eyes to avoid becoming a crying fool. He heard voices then, and the sound of steps approaching, and when he opened his eyes, he saw another of his favourite smiles. Anna Smith was walking toward them, their new nine-month-old in her arms and two toddlers and a four-year-old Liam following behind.

'Hello there.'

'Oh, look, Peanut. Look who's coming out to play with us.' John gestured, and Rosie clapped her hands in excitement.

'I've brought them outside for a bit, while Sister Rose is having cup of tea in the kitchen.' Anna said, placing the baby boy on the grass while the other three joined Rosie around the priest right away.

'Sit down.' He tapped the ground beside him. 'Are you looking forward to going to the beach today?'

'Yes, I really am.' Anna watched his interaction with the little ones for a moment. 'You're a natural with children. It's lovely to see.'

'As are you, Anna.'

'They don't fight over my lap, though.' Anna laughed when the toddlers began to crawl on him while Rosie tried her best to let them know Father was hers first.

'Well, you can all share me, all right? No fighting over me,' John told the children, finding their reactions too funny.

'Wosie here first.'

'Rosie is a good girl and good girls share, don't they?' he pointed out.

Rosie nodded, unsure about that.

'Why don't you sit with me, darling? Don't you like Anna too?'

'Yes.' The little girl giggled, crawling onto the teacher's lap. 'Wosie likes Anna too.'

 **xxx**

It was decided it would be best to eat lunch before going to the beach that day. And now Anna, Father John and Mrs Patmore were standing in the kitchen, packing weenies and condiments on top of a bag of ice and stowing them into a round Scotch cool.

Anna grabbed packages of buns and marshmallows and put them into a basket. 'Do these lemon bars go too, Mrs P?'

'That they do.'

'I was hoping you'd say that,' said the priest, popping a second one into his mouth.

'But pack 'em the up quick, Anna, before this one eats them all.' The cook whacked the priest on his shoulder with her dish towel.

'Hey now!' Father John yelled, untangling the towel from around his neck. 'Don't make me pull rank on you!' he said with a good-natured chuckle. 'I think we're ready, aren't we?'

'Not so fast. Don't forget these jugs of iced water.'

'Right. Now you're sure you don't want to come too, Mrs P?' Father John said jokingly.

'Are you daft? Do you have any idea what salt water would do to my hair? It's bad enough having to put up with this salt breeze. Now go on with you and have a grand day. And mind those children well or there'll be hell to pay,' she warned.

John couldn't help himself; he grabbed the cook in a bear hug, 'Thanks for all your help,' he said, surprising her with a kiss on top her curly red head.

'Well, you're certainly in high spirits. I reckon it's that festive striped bathing shirt you wearing.'

'I reckon you're right, Mrs P,' John glanced over at Anna. 'They do say clothes make the man,' he laughed. 'Miss Smith, let's grab our wagon and round up our crew.'

'I don't think you'll have much rounding up to do.' Mrs Patmore tapped him on the shoulder, pointing through the window toward the garden gate.

Jane, and three of the sisters, Josephine, Anne and Louise were lined up and waiting along with nineteen children of varying ages, outside the gate. Names had been drawn and only a portion of the children were going today, the rest would get their turn the following week.

The wagon was loaded with Father John's guitar, wrapped in a blanket to keep the sand out, food, drink, blankets and a couple of tin pails and shovels. The pair left by the kitchen door, to the cheers of the children.

'Are we ready, everyone?'

'You bet, Father!' hollered Philip.

'WooHoo!' shouted Teddy, 'Let's go!'

'James, I'm going to entrust you with this wagon. It has our food and everything we'll need to survive our day in the wild. My guitar's in there too, so be careful. Are you up for it?' Father asked.

James nodded, 'Yes, sir.'

"Then onward! To the beach!'

And they were off.

The three older boys were up front and leading the way, all dressed in their matching red trunks. Each had a towel slung over their shoulder. They were followed by Jeremy, walking alone, a bit behind the older lads and ahead of the group of six mid-grade boys, each in their new blue trunks. Jacob, Lucas, Noah, Caleb, Ben and Andrew.

Then came the mid-grade girls in their new shorts and halter tops, Alice, Marie and Colette, Charlotte, Ella and Nora. The teen girls, Brenda, Cynthia and Pamela, brought up the last of the children, in their brand new bathing suits.

Jane and Anna followed behind the girls. Jane nudged her friend with her shoulder. 'Would you just look at their cute ruffled bums. I'm so glad we were able to at least get them new suits. I know some might think fashion is silly, but these girls need something normal in their lives. They need to be taught how to be women.'

'You know I couldn't agree more, Janie. Good, strong women. And I think we've done a terrific job with the girls. I mean just look at our Brenda - off to nursing school in a few weeks. Leaving the nest. I'm so proud of her.'

Jane nodded her head with a sniff. 'Yeah, me too.'

'And now the boys have the father figure they deserve. Thank God Father John came to us when he did,' Anna continued.

Anna felt a hand on her shoulder then. 'Did I hear my name being bandied about?'

'Oh Father, hardly bandied,' said Anna, as he moved between her and Jane, linking his arms warmly with theirs.

'Praised, more like, and don't let that go to your head,' warned Jane. 'By the way, that is one snazzy cabana shirt you have on there, Father.'

'Why, thank you, Jane,' he winked at Anna. 'So I've been told.'

The three walked on, in friendly camaraderie.

Sister Mary Josephine, Sister Mary Anne, and Sister Mary Louise brought up the very rear of the line, happily singing _In the Good Old Summertime_. It was indeed going to be a beautiful day.

 **x**

As soon as they hit the beach, James dropped his wagon and headed into the water with Philip and Teddy close on his heels.

'Hold it right there lads! Get back here, now. We have rules to follow,' Father John shouted at them.

'Aw, c'mon, Father...' they moaned, but reluctantly they did as they were told.

'Okay, these are the rules, and they _will_ be obeyed. Rule number one! Every one of you needs to choose a buddy. Preferably an older boy with a younger boy and a younger girl with an older girl. You don't have to stick to them like glue, but whenever Sister Anne blows this whistle,' which he held it in the air before giving it to her. 'Blow it, Sister.'

She did with gusto, causing everyone to wince and little Alice to whimper and hide her head in Anna's side.

'Wherever she blows it, I want you all to find your buddy and raise your hands when you do. Understand? Of course, we will all be watching too. Now let's pick a buddy. James, you first.'

James looked down the line at the gathering of children, thinking to himself, _who will be the least bother._ His eyes landed on Lucas, a bookworm whom James figured would sit on a towel reading all day.

And on it went one after another. Last to choose was a sullen Jeremy and the only other child without a buddy was shy Alice. A perfect match. Jeremy rolled his eyes, and Alice wrapped her arms around Anna's waist.

Father was satisfied. 'Rule number two! No one, under any circumstances, leaves the area, and no one goes into the water alone. Now go have fun!'

James, Philip and Teddy headed back to the water, with a 'Whoop!'

Lucas, who was ten, as predicted, pulled a book from his waistband and sat down on the sand. Anna nudged Alice over to where Jeremy was sitting like a bump on a log on a piece of driftwood. 'Stay here with your buddy, Jeremy, while we spread the blankets and unpack our stuff,' Anna told her, turning back to John and Jane and the nuns.

Jane had already removed her beach cover-up and sandals and was laying a blanket close to the water's edge so she could keep an eye on the swimmers. And the three nuns were busy around the wagon, passing out towels to everyone. Then they spread a blanket a short distance from Jane, to help watch over the children.

Anna spread her blanket in the middle of things, kicking off her sandals and removing the matching wrap-around skirt from her slender waist. She looked over to John, who was checking his guitar for any damage. 'Father, take your clothes off and come sit with me.'

John raised his eyebrows at her, causing her to hide her face in her hands. 'Oh, I can't believe I just said that! Sorry.'

He laughed nervously at seeing Anna - so much of Anna in her bathing suit. The sight warmed him in places he really hadn't counted on. 'That's fine, Miss Smith, I know what you meant.'

He sat down near her on her blanket and began unbuttoning his shirt and removing it, totally unaware of the effect it was having on her, then he reached down to untie his shoes. That's when she noticed it. He had a tattoo. Father John had a tattoo! A tiny arrow on his left bicep. Anna had never known anyone with a tattoo, least of all a priest. She was very close to asking him about it when Colette and Maria ran up.

"Father, go swimming with us,' they begged, pulling on his hands.

'You go play with your friends right now. I want to sit here with Miss Smith for awhile and rest my leg a bit. I'll be along later. Here, take a bucket and shovel and make a sand castle.' This seemed to satisfy the little girls, and they moved on.

John sighed. He was suddenly having second thoughts.

'Are you alright?' Anna said turning toward him. She laid a hand on his denim clad thigh. 'Is it your knee? Did you hurt it walking in the sand? That can't be easy,' she continued.

He was vividly aware that her hand was resting on his leg. 'It certainly isn't easy, at least not with a stick, but that's not it.'

'What then?'

'Anna, I fully intended to go swimming today, I really did. That's why I asked you to pick the trunks up for me, but now...'

Anna leant into him, making him look at her. 'But now? Are you being shy?'

He shrugged his shoulders, suddenly feeling the fool. 'It's just that...when was the last time anyone here has seen a priest in practically his altogether? Perhaps it's too much, too shocking.'

'Not to me it's not, but then I've seen you in nothing but your trousers, with shaving soap on your face,' Anna said with a snicker.

He nudged her with his bare arm. 'And you survived that with few scars, didn't you?'

'Shocking as it was, yes I did.'

'Shocking?' John considered this. 'At least you didn't say _cringe worthy_. I suppose that's encouraging,'

 _Was he fishing for a compliment?,_ Anna wondered. She watched him as he removed his shoes and socks and shook sand out of them.

Then standing and towering over her, he unzipped his jeans and let them drop to the ground. 'Well, let's get this over with, Miss Smith. Are you with me?'

Anna gulped. 'Absolutely! You can even hold my hand if you want,' she said with a wink.

 **x**

'Look at him,' Sister Louise pointed out as Father John walked into the sea with Anna; a look of pure joy on their faces. 'Can you imagine Father Benedict doing that?'

'Heavens no! But I think it's nice and he's free to do what he wants; Father knows how to live life. He's a good man. Oh, sometimes I wish I had a bathing suit too,' Sister Anne replied, letting go of a longing sigh. 'I used to love the sea when I was a girl.'

'Sister Madeleine's head would explode if you ever bought one!' Sister Josephine giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. 'Goodness me! How very daring.'

'But he's not free, is he?'

'What?' asked Sr Anne.

'Father, he's not free, is he?' Jane answered, hovering on her elbows and pulling her sunglasses to the tip of her nose to see the pair in the distance. 'He's not really free…'

'Well, he's free enough to go for a swim in only his shorts, and I thought you fancied him, Miss Moorsum,' Sister Louise shot the teacher a look.

'Oh, I think he's ever so charming and a very fine figure of a man, and I do like them older. There's more experience in their book.'

'Oh Lord! Please stop, Jane. You shouldn't even think those things about a priest!' Sister Anne scolded trying to suppress a nervous giggle.

'Can't help myself, Sister. But I do! And that's why they invented the confessionary' Jane winked as she laid back on her towel.

'If only you used it…' Sister Louise countered, rolling her eyes. 'Aren't you going for a swim too?'

'Not just yet,' the teacher answered. 'I want to catch some sun first. Boys like 'em tanned.'

The nuns couldn't help but laugh at Jane's words. She was indeed a character.

 **x**

By the sea, the younger children played together, building sand castles and wetting their feet in the shallow tidal pools; even Lucas had joined in, enjoying a few splashes of salt water. Still sitting on his piece of driftwood, Jeremy had a stick and was drawing pictures in the sand, much to Alice's delight.

Anna and John walked past the boys and girls, heading straight into the surf. The waves were a little wild, but nothing they couldn't handle.

'Oh damn!' Anna complained, realising immediately the wording she had chose. 'Oh, I mean...it's cold.'

'It is,' John chuckled at her embarrassment; why did people think priests didn't curse?He himself was blessed with a somewhat colourful vocabulary on occasion. 'Once we get used to it it'll feel good.'

'Oh, I know. It's been years since I last swam in the sea, which is ridiculous since we're so close to it,' she told him, taking a deep breath, filling her lungs with the salty air.

'Me too. Careful, the waves are a bit strong.'

'It doesn't take much to knock me over,' Anna giggled, looking at him.

'I'll save you, Miss Smith,' he said, offering his hand to her. Her eyes were the deepest blue he had ever seen. Her smile...her smile made him want to tell her everything his heart felt.

They had waded out until they were standing in water just above Anna's waist. She had just turned to look at him when it hit - a wave strong enough to knock her off her feet and straight into John's arms, her face planted in his chest. 'Oh my goodness!' She coughed and spat and sputtered, wiping salt water out of her eyes.

'Are you all right?' he asked with a grin as soon as he realised she was only drenched. 'I hope you were counting on getting your hair wet.'

'I was…' Anna giggled. 'Thanks to you I'm still alive.'

'I'm afraid I was the reason you didn't see the wave coming. I was distracting you.'

'You do a lot of that…' she admitted, resting her hand on his chest, but it didn't take her long to realise what she had just done.

'Do I?' he asked, their eyes locked, a gentle expression on his face. His breath hitched in his throat, and she felt it on her cheek, warm and comforting, loving. He longed to press her hand more firmly to him - it was wrong, and it was dangerous but he wasn't thinking, not in the way he should, not in the way he was taught to - but before he could reach for it, she drew it away.

'More than you know.' She took a deep breath after such confession, stepping back and returning to a more proper position; side by side. Quickly, they both looked back toward the shore, making sure the scene hadn't been witnessed; to their relief, everyone appeared too busy having their own fun to pay any attention to them.

They walked out deeper and lowered themselves into the water until only their heads and shoulders could be seen. To anyone looking at them they were just two friends, standing in the sea talking to each other, but under the surface, their hands were linked and unconsciously, one of Anna's legs entwined with his. It was innocent, but oh so perilous.

 **x**

'Father John is such a tall man,' Cynthia noted, and her friends sighed as they sat by a tide pool wetting their feet in the warmer water.

'And he has such broad shoulders…' Brenda added. 'If Judy were here she would be dying!'

'She'll die next week when she comes,' Pam grinned.

'And you, Pam? Are you dying?' Cynthia giggled, elbowing her friend Brenda, who knew exactly what she meant.

'What?'

'Yeah! James has been staring at your ruffles all day,' Brenda laughed.

'Stop it! We all have ruffles,' Pam scolded, crossing her arms over her chest.

'Yeah, but he likes yours better,' Cynthia stated.

'His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw you.'

'I mean it Brenda, stop it! And you too, Cyn.' Pam shot the two a look. 'Just stop it.'

'Oh, come on,' Brenda leant her head on Pam's shoulder. 'You'll miss it when I'm not here.'

'Of course, I will, you silly girl,' Pam pouted, remembering that soon enough Brenda was leaving for nursing school.

'Aw, we'll all miss you,' Cynthia cried, wrapping her arms around her friend's shoulders. 'But you'll visit us, won't you?'

'As soon as I can, I promise. And I'll write too,' Brenda said, as she held her two friends close, looking out to the sea. To their future. 'And when you all leave here, we'll still be friends and spend some days together. Go the beach, meet for tea.'

'Go to each other's wedding,' Cynthia added.

'And to ours babies christenings,' Pam smiled.

'Yes! We'll be friends forever. Simply forever.'

 **x**

'Look at them…' Anna sighed, as she took in the scene. She was now enjoying the sun on her skin. John was sitting beside her on his towel, the others a few meters away. 'It's always so sad when one of them moves on.'

'I'm sure it is,' he nodded, sharing a bit of her sadness.

'And next year we'll have three of them leaving.'

'I'll miss them,' John confessed. 'They're fun and spontaneous, even with the constant giggles and whispers.'

Anna laughed. 'That's only when you're around.'

'Hey!' It was Jane who called to them, taking off her glasses and losing her hair from the ponytail she had been wearing. 'Come swimming with me.'

Father and Anna shared a look before turning back to the brunette teacher.

'I'm going to enjoy the sun a little more and my hair's almost dry now,' she told her friend.

'Yes, and I'm getting a bit hungry' the priest said. 'I was thinking about starting the campfire and roasting some weenies.'

'That sounds good!' Anna clapped her hands together. Swimming always made her hungry.

'All right then,' Jane smiled, already loving the idea. 'You do all that while I get my yearly ocean bath and when I come back I'll have some good stuff to eat. You do know how to start a fire, don't you, Father,' Jane teased.

'Oh, ye of little faith!' he called back to her.

The teacher walked to the water's edge then; the breeze had died down, and as it did, it became warmer. Sisters Anne, Josephine and Louise were sitting on their blanket, sweat dripping down their backs.

'Well enough of this,' decided Sister Anne. 'I'm going swimming with Jane. Are you ladies coming?'

'Are you?' said Sister Josephine.

'First one in…' cried Sister Louise, already halfway to the water.

'Oh my! How very daring.' Jane winked as the four walked together. 'But then, I would be dead if I were you. Black dresses on the beach? Insane!'

Soon enough they were all enjoying the cold ocean. The teacher had dove straight in, swimming like a proper fish. The nuns, however, were happy holding up their skirts and wading. Splashing water at each other, without restraint or guilt. Sister Madeleine would have disapproved vehemently...but Sister Madeleine wasn't there.

 **xxx**

If there is a downside to having so much fun it's that time passes so quickly. Before they knew it, the day was darkening around them. They all sat in a circle in the warm glow of the fire which Father John had built; a smell of roasted weenies lingering in the air. They ate eagerly, chatting, laughing, telling stories. If only life could always be so carefree.

'Let's sing a song!' Father shouted as he took his guitar and began plucking on the strings. He chose a popular American folk song, _Michael Row the Boat Ashore_. Father would call out the lines to the song, and everyone would repeat them, singing in unison. They were a family, they would always be, even after they had moved on they would never be forgotten. And nothing could shake their high spirits. At least not this night...

But if they could see beyond the light of the fire, they would see a darker soul. One who had been watching them all day. Watching and lurking in shadows, on their walks, behind trees and bushes, pacing in slow, quiet steps. Plotting, muttering hateful thoughts under his breath. The ember of his cigarette reflected in his eyes, giving away the fiery anger he felt. One hand running over his greasy hair, the other at his side, clenched in a fist.

' _You won't be singing for long...God may have...other plans for you.'_

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:** One small photograph, the meaning of everything, the beginning of it all. _

**_Thank you so much for reading :)_**


	10. Chapter 9

_**A/N:** Good evening everyone :) We can't begin to tell you how much your support means to us! It's so nice to read your reviews :D We hope you enjoy this chapter; the chapter before all the answers ;) _

**_~ Terrie & Handy ~_**

 _ **Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1-8. _

* * *

_**Blessed ~** Chapter 9_

 **x**

 _Monday - Friday_

 _ **x**_

 ** _Monday -_**

Every night, John set the alarm clock. It was a ritual he didn't like to miss, but every morning it gave him great pleasure to win the race. To switch the alarm off knowing he had been able to wake up without help, only by his own will. It was something he felt he could control, something he was good at.

6:30 am. He sat up in bed as soon as he opened his eyes, turning on the lamp, brightening the dark little room. He ran a hand through his hair, along his jaw, scratching his bare chest...a deep breath followed, and then a yawn.

He stood to his feet, stretching out his back and thinking about all he had to do. Summer in an orphanage, a good orphanage, was never short of work, especially when they had to think of ways to entertain small children.

Shirtless, wearing only his shorts, he walked barefoot to the big calendar hanging on the wall; he had hung it there after the departure of Sister Madeleine to her yearly retreat, he didn't want to miss any more special dates.

'So…' John whispered to himself, pointing out the days of this coming week. 'Monday...nothing...Tuesday…' he coughed - his throat felt dry - as he scratched his calf with the back of his left foot. 'Mosquitoes…bloody things...Oh! Anna's birthday is this coming Thursday. Well, well...' His mind was already beginning to make plans.

 **x**

Thirty minutes later, John set the kitchen door swinging as he elbowed through it, his hands filled with a tray holding the remnants from his late-night snack. He was fresh out of the shower as evidenced by his still damp hair and fresh-scrubbed face.

Mrs Patmore looked up from her seat at the table, where she was peeling spuds. 'Blimey! This is early even for you, Father. Breakfast won't be ready for another forty-five minutes.'

'I'm just here for coffee and a chat, if you have the time, Mrs P.'

'I'm not even sure the coffee's done, but you can check, and if you don't mind me putting you to work,' she held her paring knife out to him, 'you can have yourself a seat.'

He poured two cups of piping hot coffee and sat one in front of the cook.

'Birthdays, Mrs P! I know we have twelve a year, like all the July birthdays on the first of that month and so forth, but that's just for the children.'

'So?'

'Anna's birthday is Thursday,' he said, as he started peeling.

'Is it now? And?' Mrs Patmore looked at him curiously.

'I want to celebrate it. I want to celebrate all of our birthdays,' he clarified, 'starting with breakfast in bed followed by -.'

'Breakfast in bed! Are you...?' She was at a loss for words. 'Maybe you haven't been here long enough to notice, but we don't celebrate staff birthdays. Everyone gets an extra five pounds in their paychecks; that's it.'

'Not anymore it's not. There aren't that many of us and from now on we'll have birthday parties too - not big ones, just a cake around the kitchen table. Everyone can come in and grab a piece when they have time. I'll even bake the cakes,' John offered.

'And breakfast in bed, huh?' was all she could say.

'Yes. When I was still living at home, on my mum's birthday my dad would always take her breakfast on a tray. Dad and I would end up in bed with her too because he invariably made enough for an army. She'd be talking about it for months after,' John reminisced.

'So we're all to go up and crawl in bed with Anna and share her food?' Mrs Patmore joked. The fact that Father's cheeks turned red did not go unnoticed. 'It's a nice thought, Father, but you might want to rethink that.'

'You don't think it's a good idea?'

'I think it's a _sweet_ idea.' The cook smiled at him. 'But Sister would throw a conniption fit. _A priest in a teacher's bedroom?_ '

'I don't give a fig what Sister thinks.' John seemed disappointed for just a minute. 'But perhaps you're right. I would never want to compromise Anna. What was I thinking?'

And then Mrs Patmore saw it all written so clearly in his eyes. 'You were thinking with your kind heart, Father, and that's _never_ wrong.'

'Isn't it?' he asked. John found he couldn't look up when she took his hand.

'My old mum used to say; _The heart knows what the heart knows_.' And Mrs P knew.

 **x**

Alarm clocks had always been her worst enemy, but she couldn't chance sleeping until she woke up naturally. If that were the case, she would probably miss breakfast and lunch altogether.

At 8:00 a.m. Anna stretched out lazily and yawned, her feet tangled in the sheets, thankful for the extra hour of sleep the summer schedule allowed her. The morning light shone brightly through her thin, net curtains, illuminating the room, shining its spotlight directly on her face. She groaned, rubbing her eyes before getting out of bed.

Standing tall, Anna bent over, touching her toes a couple of times, and twisting this way and that from the waist. Limbering up. Then she pulled at her baby doll pyjama bottoms which had ridden up during the night. She glanced at herself in the mirror across the room and groaned. Her hair looked better suited for a scarecrow, making her wonder why she even bothered braiding it every night. Sitting down at her vanity she began to unbraid and brush it. Her eyes were focused on the features of her sleepy face.

'One year older... in less than a week…' She whispered to herself with a sigh. What would her next year bring? If only...but even as she thought it, she knew in her heart it was an impossible dream.

 ** _Tuesday -_**

John paused at the back door before heading out with his mug of tea. He really wanted a breath of fresh air, but Jane was out there sitting on the arbour swing thumbing her way through a stack of magazines. It was irrational, he knew, but Jane Moorsum scared him a bit, and he was hesitant to be alone with her. John liked Jane; he really did and from all accounts, she was an excellent teacher and Anna's best friend to boot. But still...

The teacher looked up then and saw him standing at the door. Smiling, she waggled her fingers at him. He acknowledged Jane in the same way, and when she patted the seat next to her, he took a deep breath and stepped through the door, closing it behind him.

'Hey, Father. How's the morning treating you?'

'Not too bad,' he said, taking his seat beside her, the stack of magazines between them. 'I see you're not at a loss for reading material this summer,' John joked trying to make light conversation.

'Hardly! I'm going through these old issues and deciding if they're appropriate to pass on to our girls. 'You have to watch out for Cosmopolitan, you know?' She winked at him. _Now, what was that supposed to mean?_

'Uh, no I didn't know.'

'Can't be too careful. They're all smart, strong young ladies, but they do love their fashion too.'

'Nothing wrong with that, I suppose.' He noticed she had stopped in her perusing a catalogue to study a page of accessories. John briefly wondered if he should ask Jane to help him find a birthday gift for Anna, but for some reason, he realised he wanted to do this on his own. 'Looks like rain, doesn't it?' _That's it stick to the weather, John._

'It does, but Mr Rivers says we can use it. I wouldn't go for any long walks today.'

'Unfortunately, that's not an option for me. I'm meeting Fr. William in the village for tea later on.'

'Hm, you might want to re-think that,' Jane moved on, 'Anna tells me that little Alice has visitors coming to see her tomorrow.'

'She does. Cousins of her mother. They're Alice's only living relatives, and they've been abroad for the past two years and had no idea Alice's parents had died. They're missionaries, as were Alice's parents. Good people, I think, but they have a full, busy life. Would they even have room in it for a young girl like Alice?'

Jane considered this, 'I didn't know her parents were missionaries. Well, she knows the life, at least,' she reasoned. 'Perhaps Alice would fit right in. She's such a shy baby, though. She really only relates to Anna.'

John agreed. 'Yes, Anna's wonderful with her. Well, we shall see and hope for things to work out for the best.' John looked at his watch and turned to Jane. 'It's been lovely chatting with you, but I'd best be getting back to work.'

As he rose to leave Jane called out with a smile, 'Better take your water-wings on that walk, Father.'

 **x**

John could count on one hand the number of times he had been to the village, but he always enjoyed it when he did. This afternoon, though, the clouds were threatening, ominous almost. He questioned his decision not to call and cancel. The air was still warm and the seagulls flew low, switching sea for land; an indication of strong waves and high tide.

People in the village knew him already, even though he didn't know them personally. They walked past him tilting their hats and wishing him a good day, wondering what the Orphanage director was doing...well, outside of the Orphanage.

'Let me tell you, Father, if anyone ever told me I would see the very own Blessed Virgin director walking past me on the street...Goodness! I would have called them all a bunch of liars.'

'Really?' John feigned curiosity, as an old man addressed him.

'Yes, really! The former Blessed Virgin director was too big for his britches...literally. He couldn't be bothered showing up amongst us mere mortals.'

'Then he didn't know what he was missing.' John smiled kindly at the elderly gent. 'This village is beautiful, and the people are the salt of God's earth.'

'Ah, 'tis true. You're a good man, Father!' The old duffer patted him on the shoulder and went on his way.

With a grin on his face, John continued toward the church at the far end of High Street where Father William would be waiting for him with tea and a nice chat. Suddenly, there was a long roll of thunder in the distance. It would rain soon.

He walked faster then, hoping he wouldn't get wet, when something caught his attention. In a storefront window, he saw it. The perfect gift for Anna Smith.

'Good afternoon,' John said upon entering the shop.

'Good afternoon, Father. Hiding from the rain?'

'Sort of...well…' the priest cleared his throat, noticing the big wooden clock on one of the walls. 4:45 p.m. He had time. 'I was wondering about that silver bracelet in the window. Could you show it to me, please?'

'But of course!' The store owner smiled, obliging to his request. 'It's what they call a charm bracelet.'

'A charm bracelet?' John asked as the man handed him the delicate silver chain.

'You see...we have all these charms, and you keep adding them. Every birthday, every anniversary, special date...it's a highly bought item among husbands.' The storekeeper winked. 'And also whenever they do something they need to make amends for, they add another charm and the wife forgives them, if you know what I mean.'

'I do.' The priest chuckled.

'The first charm comes with the bracelet. It's a beautiful little heart, isn't it?'

'It is…' John held the silver pendant between his fingers. It was such a small, delicate thing, so suited for someone as...sweet and delicate as Anna. 'Oh!' he exclaimed, turning the charm around to find an inscription on its back. It made his breath catch.

'The ladies like them with sayings.'

'I see…'

'Is it for a sister?' The store owner asked, placing a box filled with charms atop the counter. 'I have one that-.'

'No, it's...for a friend.' The priest answer cautiously. Would the man think more of it?

'Oh! Well...let me see if I have friendship one. I think I had-.'

'Actually, I like the heart,' John nodded, eyeing the charm one more time. Nothing else could be more perfect for Anna. Nothing else could express what he felt for her, even though, in the back of his mind he asked himself if it was right. Right to give her a silver heart...in lieu of his own.

'Oh yes, of course. And then, love is also part of friendship. It's a beautiful gift, Father. Do you want me to wrap it up? Or did you want to see something else?'

'I'll take it.' The priest replied decisively. A heart of friendship, and nothing more. But, of course, it was so much more than that. 'Can you wrap it in pink...and with a bow?'

'Of course, Father. I'll make it pretty for you.' The man smile, as he wrapped up the gift with practised ease.

'Thank you very much,' John smiled. '...Mr?'

'Mr Harper, Father. At your service.'

John made his way out of the store not five minutes later, after the weather broke. He wore a big smile, pleased with his achievement and relieved that he had found what he thought to be the perfect gift for Anna. But those clouds overhead hadn't given up just yet, and another roll of thunder was heard not so far away.

He sighed disapprovingly, his free hand cupping the pocket where he carried the small wrapped box, patting it gently...and a second after, the rains came again. So John ran, as best as he could, grabbing his walking stick to get it out of the way; wet ground and canes were never a good match.

'Father John! Come in, come in.' Father William opened the back door of the church, rushing him inside. The young priest was tall - taller than John - and slim, he had light brown hair, clear eyes, a proud, jutting chin and a smile always playing on his lips. _A nice lad_ , as John described him around. _A breath of fresh air._

'Thank you, Father William. I'm afraid I'm a little late.'

'A friend always waits for another friend.' The new priest stepped forward to help Father John out of his jacket. 'Now, with hot tea, you'll be as good as new.'

'That I will, my friend. That I will. And you must pay a visit to The Blessed Virgin sometime soon. It's really quite a special place.'

 ** _Wednesday -_**

There were sighs every time Brenda found another item to pack into her suitcase. It was her last week at the Orphanage before leaving for nursing school, and a whole new future ahead of her.

Following Sunday Mass, she, accompanied by her teacher, Miss Moorsum would be boarding the train for York. She would be settled into her new home - a dorm room on the campus of the York School of Nursing, and she would be set free. Brenda was excited and looking forward to her new life. She was also more terrified than she had ever been.

'This is making me sad…' Cynthia pouted watching as her friend grabbed the last few pairs of socks from the drawer.

'Yeah, it feels real now. It didn't before, but now it does,' Judith said, laying on her pillow, her hands behind her head and eyes on the ceiling.

'It's unfair if you ask me.' Karen crossed her arms around her middle. 'Why do we have to leave? I don't think I'll do well outside when my time comes, next year.'

'Do you think I'm overjoyed?' Brenda asked turning to face her friends, who sat there under their own cloud of gloom and doom. 'I'm not, I would love to stay here with all of you forever. With Miss Smith and Miss Moorsum, Mrs P, Sister Josephine...Father John.' They all giggled at the way she said the priest's name, followed by a cheeky wink. 'But it's also exciting to leave here and venture out on my own. See new things, meet new people, do different stuff. Just live!'

'She's right, you know.' Pam smiled feeling a little better. 'I would love to travel the world! I dream of seeing the Great Wall of China one day.'

'Paris!' Karen shouted.

'New York!' Judith added.

'Travel to Hollywood and meet all those handsome movie stars,' Cynthia said with a delightful smirk.

'And then, we can always visit,' Brenda continued. 'And write to each other. We will be friends forever, remember? But we also have a life to live. Isn't that what Miss Smith says?'

'She does,' Judith nodded.

'And Miss Smith's always right. She never says what's not true,' Pam stated, sitting on Brenda's suitcase, to help her close it.

'I do wonder, though…' They all faced Cynthia at once, confused.

'About what?' Brenda asked.

'Well, Miss Smith was born and raised here in Whitby. I wonder if...well if she's living her life, you know?'

'Course she is! She's a teacher,' Judith said.

'Yes but, she never travelled anywhere else. She never met new people. She dated that Gordon bloke since she was our age,' Cynthia insisted.

'Doesn't sound like she has lived much, that's true...and it's a shame she isn't going to marry him anymore.' Karen sighed to herself. 'She's so kind and good to us; she deserves all the happiness in the world.'

'Gordon Manning wasn't the love of her life. Miss Smith is a romantic soul; he wasn't the right man for her.'

'What are you even talking about, Pam?!' Cynthia questioned, looking at her friend dubiously.

'That's just what I think. Miss Smith is just like I am…'

'What?' Brenda laughed. 'Half loving the priest, half loving a fifteen-year-old?'

The girls giggled loudly; but aside from the fifteen-year-old, Brenda wasn't telling any lies.

Pam only rolled her eyes before concluding, 'Women like us don't settle for second best. If he doesn't make our heart skip a beat, he's not the one.'

'Women?' Cynthia exclaimed, throwing a pillow at Pam. 'And who do you think makes Miss Smith's heart skip a beat, you silly child!'

'The same one who sets our hearts to racing. We all know who that is,' Pam said with a sigh. 'Poor Miss Smith.' All the girls nodded their heads in agreement. Poor Miss Smith, indeed.

A pillow fight ensued after that, and even Brenda allowed herself to forget for a minute that this life was coming to an end.

 **x**

Outside, the teen boys sat under the shade of a cherry tree, resting up from an impromptu football match - three against three; it had ended in a draw. They were sweaty and thirsty, but no one could muster up the energy to run to the kitchen for a glass of water; the tart cherries would have to do.

'Did you hear the girls talking? Brenda is already packing.' Teddy sighed, laying down on the soft grass. The others nodded at his words.

'Next year it will be Karen and me,' Philip said sadly. 'I mean I want to, but I just don't think I'm ready, you know? I don't even know what I want to be.'

'But maybe you don't have to leave,' Teddy tried to cheer his friend. 'Alf stayed, didn't he? You can stay too. Be a helper, maybe Father John's helper.'

'Yeah,' the other boys voiced in unison, already hating the idea of seeing them one by one, leaving the only home some of them could ever remember.

'It's not like they'll just send us out on our own to fend for ourselves until we're ready. And there's always work in the village if we don't go on to Uni,' said James. 'I remember Avery Owens, who left the year I came? He went opened up his own car garage in the village. And Walter Ream has a fleet of fishing boats. Nah, we'll be okay, mates.'

'I always wanted to be a mechanic in a garage. Mr Rivers has been letting me tinker on the old tractor out behind the shed. Maybe I can get a job at Avery Owens' place!' Howie planned his future.

'Maybe…' Philip was still unsure. 'Why didn't Brenda stay?'

'Brenda always wanted to be a nurse,' Howie replied.

'And maybe one day she'll come back and be a nurse here. It's happened before. Years ago they had a teacher who had been raised at the Orphanage. Miss Barker, I think. She came back and was a nurse right here before Sister Rose came,' Oscar added.

'Oh yes, I remember her. She had a mole right between her eyes. Now she was a looker!' Louis giggled.

'Know what? We should make Brenda a card!' It was James who had the idea, jumping to his feet and resting his hands on his hips. 'Yeah, we should definitely make her a card.'

'A card?' Teddy asked with a frown.

'A Going Away card!' James exclaimed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. 'Girls like written things, don't they? We could write something to her and sign it so she'll remember us when she's gone. The girls can sign it too, in fact, everyone can! Father, Miss Smith, Miss Moorsum, Mrs P -'

'Mad Madeleine.' Louis teased, contorting his face in his best Sister Madeleine impression.

James screwed up his nose. 'Eh, don't know, but if she wants to...Miss Smith says we have to include her always; it's up to the old crow to say yes or no.'

'Yeah, let's do it!' Philip stood up, joining his friend. 'Brenda will be so happy. It'll be a great idea James!' he smiled, patting his friend on the back.

'I always have great ideas.'

'Not really...this was the first,' Howie added.

'And probably his last,' Teddy joked, earning him a slap around the head from James. After that, the boys ran inside, right into Mrs Patmore kitchen, where they were offered cold water and freshly made cinnamon biscuits.

 **x**

'Faver! Faver! Wait for Wosie, Faver!' The chubby little two-year-old had latched on to Father John's leg as he tried to walk down the hall with a toddler in each arm.

'Darling, let loose of my leg and go wait in the nursery. I'll come back to get you in just a minute. Okay, sweetie?'

Rosie let go of his leg only to hold her hands aloft, pleading, 'Up, Faver, up! _Pweeze_?'

'Hey,' it was Anna, 'What's going on? Can I help?'

'Oh yes, please. Sr Rose and Sr Josephine and I are taking these little tykes out to play in the new sandbox Alf and Mr Rivers built. If you could grab Wosie...I mean Rosie and bring her along I'd sure appreciate it.'

On hearing this, Rosie turned to Anna. 'Up, Anna, up.'

'Oh, the sandbox!'

When Anna clapped her hands together in child-like excitement, John felt his heart turn over envisioning his charm bracelet with a lifetime worth of charms dangling from her wrist.

She reached down for the girl. 'Let's go, Rosie. I can't wait to get my bare feet in the sand!' With that, Anna jogged down the hall, little Rosie looking over her shoulder waving bye to Father John.

 **x**

'What's so interesting?' Sister Madeleine barked, walking up behind Mrs Patmore, causing her to jump nearly out of her skin and spill hot tea down her front.

'Ah! Must you always be sneaking up on people? Just look at me. Now I'm a fine mess,' the cook scowled at the old sister, as she removed her wet apron.

'Would you look at that spectacle!' Mrs P watched as the nun stormed out of the door to confront poor Sr. Josephine. The young nun was sitting in the sand; her habit crooked on her head with toddlers crawling on her and having the time of her life.

'Sister!' She cast a dark shadow over the sandbox causing everyone present to freeze and the children to whimper. 'You will get out of there, shake yourself off and go back to the kitchen where you belong. You are a disgrace to our order and our way of life. See me in my office after evening prayers. Now go!'

Father John, who had been sitting in a garden chair taking his shoes and socks off, rose to challenge Sr Madeleine but was stunned to silence by her bony finger wagging in his face.

'These are my sisters, Father,' her voice growing shriller by the second. 'It would do you well to remember that. Sr Josephine's actions were inappropriate and childish and she _will_ be punished.' With that, she caught sight of his bare feet, and his one rolled up trouser leg. She turned her face to the heavens as if to say, _Why am I being tested, Lord?_ 'Just look at yourself! You're a disgrace to your profession!' She put a shaking hand to her forehead as if momentarily dizzy before turning toward the building; her exit from the scene punctuated by the slamming of the back door.

It took Father only a few seconds to react. He looked at Sister Rose, comforting the two toddlers who had been climbing on Sister Josephine. Then at Anna, kneeling and holding two other frightened children, and finally down at Rosie, who at the moment was trying with all her might to climb his leg.

'Enough…' He took Rosie by the hand and led her to Anna for safe keeping, slipped on his shoes, rolled down his trousers and went after Sister Madeleine.

What he found shocked and saddened him. Sister Madeleine was gripping the cowering young nun's shoulder, her hand raised, poised to strike.

'Stop!' The priest shouted as Mrs Patmore stepped between the two and took the blow herself. He grabbed the old nun's arm hard to stop her from attacking again. She spun on him, and he watched her face crumble as she collapsed to the floor.

'Mrs P, are you all right?' he asked.

She nodded her head, 'But Sr Madeleine's not well, Father.' The cook held the young sister in her arms.

Father John knelt on the floor, trying to calm the wailing nun, to no avail. 'I think she's having a breakdown. I'll stay with her. Can you -,'

'I'll call the doctor,' she said, taking Sr Josephine by the hand and heading for the phone in her pantry.

Father blessed the old nun as she continued her sad sobbing.

 **x**

'How is she?' Anna asked the minute John walked into the nursery. She had a slippery Rosie wrapped in a towel, fresh from her bath. The toddler squirmed until John reached out to take her.

'The doctor thinks it was low blood sugar and stress, brought on by me, no doubt,' he said with a sigh.

Anna reached out, caressing his arm. 'Now stop. You didn't cause her low blood sugar and she brings on her own stress.'

'Hypoglycemia, is it?' Sister Rose walked over with Rosie's nightgown and nighttime nappy in her hands. 'That's what I figured it was.'

'Should we have seen it coming? I didn't notice anything unusual but I'm afraid I've pushed her too far,' John worried.

'Father, enough of that talk. We all irritate her. She's the easiest person in the world to set off and you know that. So what are they going to do with her tonight?'

'The doctor wants her to go to the hospital for a couple of days for tests. She's not very happy about it either.' He switched Rosie to his other arm. 'She's insisting you go and stay with her because she doesn't trust the village nurses. I'm sorry, Sister. Anna and I will watch over the little ones, won't we?'

'We will, happily, but I don't envy you, Sister Rose.'

Sister sighed. 'I suppose I've had worse duties in my time, but not by much. I'll go pack a small bag and then be off. Is the doctor still here?'

'He is. He's waiting for you. She won't leave without her private nurse,' John smiled. 'I really am sorry.'

'Did she really strike out at Mrs P? Sister asked.

'She did, but her target was Sr Josephine, then she collapsed,' Father said sadly.

Sister shook her head,'Well I'll be off then,' she said leaving John and Anna with five toddlers and a baby.

 **x**

It was nearly ten-thirty. Calm had finally fallen over the nursery. It was as if the toddlers fought sleep, not wanting their night with Anna and Father John to end. Anna was curled up on the small tufted love seat in the dim glow of the nightlight. She was feeding their newest charge, an infant, as yet unnamed. Less than two weeks old, the tiny boy was sucking noisily on his bottle.

John was just returning from Sr Rose's tiny kitchen when he heard it - Anna's soft crooning to the baby. His heart turned in his chest, and he swallowed hard. 'Almost finished?' he asked softly.

'Not nearly,' she shook her head with a contented smile. 'This one enjoys his meals too much. There's no rushing him.'

'I think you're enjoying it too,' John chuckled. 'Listen, I can take over if you want to get ready for bed. Then I'll do the same when you're back. I could use a shower,' he said, running his hand over his face and through his hair. 'You can sleep in Sister Rose's bed, and I'll camp out here on the sofa.'

'No, I'll finish up here. I think he's about to drift off. I don't want to disturb him and yes, you're right. I am enjoying it,' Anna said in a whisper, without looking up from the babe. 'And you will take the bed. Have you noticed the size of this love seat? You'd be twisted up like a pretzel sleeping here. I'll brook no arguments from you, mister.'

'We'll see.' He considered her for a moment. 'Okay, I won't be long,' but she was so under the spell of the infant he wasn't even sure she heard him leave.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Anna was where he had left her. 'Still at it?' He stood before her in his striped pyjamas, blue housecoat and slippers. His hair was damp from his shower.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight. She smiled and held the bottle up with some milk remaining. 'We had to stop to burp.'

'Give him to me,' John motioned with his hands. 'I'll finish up with him else we'll never get to sleep.'

'Eh, but he feels so good,' she sighed, reluctantly handing the baby over.

John sat down in her place, adjusting the boy in his arms. 'You're a softy, Anna Smith. I fear your children will be spoiled rotten,' he grinned up at her.

'As all children should be, Father John,' and she flounced out of the room.

John settled in and allowed the warmth of the little one to melt into his heart. He watched, transfixed when a tiny hand gripped his index finger, and he was in heaven when big blue eyes stared into his.

 _Oh_ , memories took him back in time. It was magic...and so painful.

 **x**

'Father. Father?' She caught them both sleeping upon her return. The bottle was empty and sitting on the side table to the left of the loveseat.

John stirred when Anna sat next to him and leant in to brush her fingers lightly over the baby's head. Her freshly washed hair smelled like the wildflowers she so loved picking, and when he moved his right arm around her pink chenille covered shoulders, she snuggled into him so naturally. _This is the way things should be_ , John thought. There was a rightness to it.

'Poor little one,' sighed Anna. 'It always makes me sad that these little ones come to us nameless.'

'Yes, a newborn; his fourteen-year-old mother and her parents only wanted to forget about him. It's understandable, I suppose, but how could you ever forget? I could never forget,' said John, resting his chin on Anna's head.

'Nor I. Did you know, John, I name them, these little ones. It only seems right.'

'Do you?' he asked, looking down at her. How like his Anna. 'Have you named this one?'

'Not yet. This is the first I've really spent time with him. The first time I've breathed his baby smell. Gotten to know him.' Anna curled her legs up under her and wrapped her right arm around John and the infant. Holding them both. 'Let's name him...together.'

'All right, how about Peter?' he suggested.

Anna turned up her nose. 'No, I have an Uncle Peter and no, just no. I like John.'

'You would,' he teased. 'I think we can do better than that for this little boy.'

'I don't. He should be named after his father, and right now you are the only father he has. So it's settled then, little John. And I won't be talked out of it.'

He knew Anna Smith to be a determined soul, and he didn't even try.

They sat there in peaceable silence. The last thing Anna remembered before drifting off was the sweetness of John's lips on the top of her head.

 ** _Thursday -_**

The breakfast bell had rung almost 10 minutes ago. The halls had emptied out. John had begun to wonder if he had missed her. Then, at last, he heard the click of her heels on the tiled floor above. He stood up from the step he had been sitting.

'Father?' Anna stopped mid-step, 'What are you doing there?'

'Waiting for you to come down,' and he held out his hand to her.

'Whatever for?' she asked, taking his offered hand when she reached his level.

'I wanted to be the first one to tell you happy birthday. Happy Birthday, Anna.'

Anna was touched by his kindness, but not surprised. 'Oh, thank you, Father. I didn't know you knew. I wasn't expecting anyone to remember.'

'I made a point of knowing, and I have something for you.' He pulled the gift from his pocket, handing it to her and motioning for her to sit on the step, where he joined her.

'Oh...'

'No, don't say it,' he stopped her.

'Don't say what?'

'Don't say I shouldn't have. I wanted to.' John nodded toward the gift, urging her to open it.

First she read the message he'd written on the card.

 _My dearest Anna ~_

 _I don't know if I can ever convey to you just how much you've come to mean to me. To imagine my world without you in it is impossible. I truly believe you have changed my life forever._

 _~ Yours, John_

'Oh John…' Then she turned her attention to her present. 'It's pink,' she said, lightly touching the bow. 'That's so sweet.' When she began to unwrap the small rectangular box Anna noticed that he seemed as excited as she was.

She knew from the embossed name on the midnight blue velvet box that it was from Harper's Jewellery Store. She felt breathless. 'What is it?'

'Open it and find out,' he encouraged.

Anna placed the box on her knees and slowly opened the lid. It lay there on its bed of satin, a delicate silver bracelet, adorned with a tiny silver heart. 'A charm bracelet,' she whispered.

'You know what it is then?'

'Of course, but do you?'

'I didn't, not until Mr Harper explained it to me,' he admitted.

But she wondered if he really did know the extent of what it meant. Was he saying he would be in her life throughout the years to fill this silver chain with charms, a myriad of life's memories? The poignancy of the gift nearly broke her heart. It seemed such an impossible dream. Her lip began to quiver, and she couldn't hold back the tear that slid down her cheek.

'Anna? What is it? Don't you like it?' His fingertips caught the lone tear.

She shook her head. 'I love it...I love it, John. It's perfect.'

'Good. Now I plan on filling this up, Miss Smith. By your seventieth birthday, you'll need my help lifting your arm it will be so laden with charms. If I still have the strength left in me, that is,' he chuckled.

So he did understand the meaning. 'Is that a promise?' she asked.

'You have my word. Now, may I put it on you?'

He picked up the bracelet from its box and she held her wrist out to him, palm side up. The chain felt cool against her skin as he fastened the tiny clasp. He hesitated, then bent to place a quick, gentle kiss on the inside of her wrist.

John suddenly felt he might have gone too far, but her smile convinced him otherwise. She was holding her wrist up examining the heart charm.

'Oh, it says something...it says, _Only You_!' Anna looked deep into his eyes. 'Oh, John...'

He did love when she called him John. He smiled. 'Happy Birthday, Anna.'

 **x**

The breakfast dishes had been cleaned up; Ivy was in the herb garden, Daisy in the nursery. Mrs Patmore was cleaning out her pantry. And Father John, who had placed his mother's famous Vanilla Lemon cake in the oven was mixing up a bowl of pink frosting when he heard...

'Faver? Wosie's here!' the toddler pushed her way into the kitchen, sending the door swinging. She ran full-on, trusting him to catch her. 'Wosie fly, Faver!'

John swooped her up and held her as high in the air as he could, zooming her around the room. 'Wosie flying!' the little girl squealed.

Anna stood in the doorway taking in the scene playing out before her. John stood tall, his arms lifting Rosie nearly to the ceiling. There was what looked like flour staining one shoulder of his shirt. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the first couple of buttons at his neck were open. _Was that Mrs Patmore's apron? The one with the two rows of ruffles along the hem?_

'She insisted on coming to find you, but my, my! What have we here? Are you taking up a new line of work, Father? The ruffled apron is a nice touch; I must say, ' Anna teased.

John lowered Rosie, her chubby bum now sitting on his forearm. She had her head on his shoulder and was touching the side of his face lovingly. 'Uh, no. I wanted it to be a surprise, but I've been caught. I'm making your birthday cake,' he said with a proud smile. Although he had never intended for Anna to find out, once he saw the look on her face he realised he was glad she had. 'Are you impressed?'

'I'm _very_ impressed. You're a man of many talents. But you already gave me this beautiful bracelet, and now a cake too?' She held her wrist up allowing the sun catch it, setting the room awash with rainbows.

Little Rosie drew a breath. 'Oh, pwetty!'

'Well the bracelet was from me to you, but the cake is for the staff to celebrate your day. I was talking to Mrs P and I told her from now on everyone gets a cake on their birthday. The children have their parties, why can't we have ours?'

'So you made an executive decision? Sister was thrilled, I imagine,' she giggled.

Rosie climbed higher in his arms and kissed his cheek.

'I did, and Sister doesn't know yet. I had to promise Mrs Patmore I'd bake the cakes, though, hence the apron,' he explained. 'Rosie, why are you licking my face?'

'Eatin' Faver. Faver tastes good.'

'Oh my goodness! I bet Faver _does_ taste good. You have pink frosting on your cheek, John. He does know his way to a girl's heart, doesn't he, Rosie?' But Rosie was too busy licking to answer.

Just then they heard a noise in the gravel driveway outside the kitchen window. It was Gordon making his weekly delivery. Anna had avoided seeing him for the past few weeks, but Mrs Patmore mentioned he was always asking about her. 'Oh no! John, can you watch Rosie and cover for me? I don't want to see Gordon. Please?' she begged.

'Of course. Go back in the pantry with Mrs P and close the door. I'll tell him you're gone away for the day if he asks about you. I'll get rid of him. Don't you worry. Rosie and I will handle this, won't we Peanut?' But Peanut just kept on licking.

Anna had no more than left when Gordon entered through the back door without knocking, pulling his delivery cart behind him. 'Good morning Mrs P! How's my favourite red - Oh-ho! Mrs P,' he said, looking up to see Father John. 'you've done something different with your hair!'

'Gordon.' John wasn't exactly rude, but he wasn't friendly either and had no intention of being so.

'And who's this little beauty?' Gordon tried to tickle Rosie's ribs, but she pulled away and hid her face in John's neck.

'No! Faver!'

'You must be losing your touch with the ladies, Gordon.' John couldn't help himself. He smiled as he kissed the top of Rosie's head. He only hoped she had cleaned all the pink frosting off his cheek. It was hard to be intimidating in a ruffled apron and pink frosting.

Gordon glared at him. 'You're a good one to talk, Padre. How's my girl? I've been too busy to see her lately.'

'That's not the way I heard it.'

'Then you heard wrong. Where is she? I remembered her birthday. I got her flowers. Anna likes flowers. She'd better love these. They cost me an arm and a leg.' Gordon brought forth a bouquet of florist-bought red roses from the back of the cart.

 _He doesn't know her at all, does he?_ John thought.

'So where is she? Where's Anna?'

'Anna?' Rosie turned, looking around the room.

'She's not here. She's gone for a few days.' John only hoped that Rosie didn't let the cat out of the bag.

Gordon eyed John, not quite believing him. He pinched Rosie's button nose to get her attention. 'Where's Anna, sweet pea?' he asked.

Rosie pulled away from him again, scowling and covering her nose with a pudgy hand. 'No! Anna go bye-bye.'

'Did she now? Well, her loss. Doesn't make me no never mind. I'll just add it to her account,' he said menacingly. 'Looks like the kitchen ladies have themselves some flowers,' and he tossed the bouquet on the table. 'Now move out of my way, Padre. I got a delivery to make,' he said, heading for the pantry.

'No, we're cleaning out the pantry. Just leave everything here and I'll put it in when we're ready for it.'

'Good. Less work for me.' Gordon emptied his cart at the door and as he turned to leave he said, 'Now don't you take credit for those flowers, Father, just to impress the girlies. You hear?' and he was gone.

Anna and Mrs Patmore had been listening at the pantry door so the first thing Anna did was walk over to the table, pick up the flowers and throw them in the trash. _'He doesn't know me at all.'_

'Oops! You dropped the card, dear.' There was no envelope, so, of course, the cook read it. 'The nerve of him!'

'What?'

'Are you sure you want to see it?' said Mrs P handing it over to Anna.

 _Have you learned your lesson yet? - Gordo_

Trying to hold back tears of frustration, Anna handed the card to John to read.

'Mrs P, can't we get another delivery service? She doesn't need to deal with this,' he insisted, placing his free arm around Anna's shoulder. Rosie leant over to give her a hug too.

'No, we can't,' Anna spoke up. 'Gordon's dad is sweet, and the orphanage has been a customer for years and years. It wouldn't be fair to Mr Manning.'

'Well, he's not too sweet,' Mrs P answered. 'He's raised his prices since you had the sense to break up with his good-for-nothing son.'

'Has he now? Oh! My cake!' John suddenly remembered, handing Rosie over to Anna.

Half an hour later the pantry was sorted and stocked; the cake was cooled, frosted and sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, sprinkles and all. The only thing left to do was lick the bowl. And that's what they did.

After that, the kitchen door never stopped swinging. Teachers and nuns alike, wanting a test out Father John's now famous cake baking skills, and to honour Anna's birthday. It wasn't a party, far from it, but for the teacher it had been the best birthday she had ever had. Surrounded by friends, with Sister Madeleine out of sight, with him there, smiling whenever they caught sight of each other.

The chain felt strange on her wrist, a wonderful kind of strange. By bedtime, she had gotten used to it. She would touch it now and then, making sure it was real, and _Only You_ would be read over and over again under the dim light of her lamp that night.

 ** _Friday -_**

'What's in that box?' John asked as Anna teetered precariously at the top of the ladder they had borrowed from Mr Rivers.

She pulled the box down from the top shelf of a tall cupboard. 'Books and more books,' the teacher replied, finding it hard to reach for some of the items. 'Oh goodness! Are these editions are gold bound?'

'Anna, be careful, you're going to fall. Let me up there.' Her answer was a resounding, _No!_ John tightened his grip on the ladder to make sure Anna had all the support she needed - although his concentration drifted away from his supposed aim to her legs. He swallowed hard, trying to avert his eyes, but whenever she moved, he couldn't help but take a glimpse of her skin, her stockings, and beautifully shaped calves. _Oh my_... 'They used to love gold finishings,' he continued. 'Should we sell or donate?'

'Hmm…' She pursed her lips, handing him a few of the books. Luckily, he had looked away right before she turned to him. 'Maybe you can auction them instead. I think collectors would love these.'

'True, but maybe these books are worthy of being in a national library too,' he told her, placing them on the floor and returning to his _supportive_ task.

'Maybe you're right. And we already have so many things to sell.'

'Except for the bus, we'll save all this money for a rainy day. Thank God nothing too bad has ever happened, but we are dealing with children and we need to know we can afford anything they need. New books, new supplies, new clothes too, doctors.'

'I'd like to think that's what Father Benedict had in mind when he was building his collections, but I sadly doubt it. Still, that's what it's come to in the end,' Anna said.

'What's in that box?' He pointed to a box in the far corner of the closet, but when Anna tried to reach for it, it was clear her arm was not long enough for the job.

'Wait, let me…' John tried to stop her.

'Father, I've got this.' Anna brushed his help off as she tried to stretch as far as she could, even daring to stand on tiptoes.

'Anna, don't do that, you'll fall!' John warned, instinctively holding her feet on the step. 'I should be the one doing that.'

'Nonsense! I can do it.'

'My leg rarely bothers me...if that's what you're worried about. I climb all the time and walk miles too.'

'So…' she looked down at him, shooting him a cheeky grin, 'you walk around with your cane just to look charming?'

'Oh, Blimey!' John laughed. 'I've been caught out.'

Anna rolled her eyes at him before trying one more time. She stretched out again, her tongue poking from the side of her mouth in concentration. Her fingertips touched the wooden box, but not much more than that...just a little more...if only she...one more millimetre only...

'Careful!' he shouted as he saw her losing balance, and with no time to think, he pulled her down into his arms.

'I'm so sorry…' she gasped, twisting around and bringing one hand to her chest, the other was around his neck. 'I…'

'Lost your balance. Didn't I say?' he replied, taking in the realisation of his arms around her waist, their bodies as close as humanly possible. Anna faced him then, their eyes meeting, the silence of the room echoing in their ears. They were alone, no one to judge them, no one to stop them. They felt each other's warmth, each other's breathing.

'Yes…' she replied, her eyes never leaving his. His eyes were focused on her lips. It was a force that came from nowhere, but also from everything around them. It was pure energy, pure attraction, and without thinking, without measuring sense or danger, they were drawn to each other, closer and closer, Anna tilted her head, their lips mere inches apart.

John's grip around her became tighter, almost possessive.

His scent was heady, of aftershave and coffee, and a hint of salty sweat. It invaded her senses, no questions asked. And she was sweet. Sweet as a summer breeze, freshly caressed by the morning dew, blooming flowers, peppermint tea and lavender soap.

Oh, so close… Their eyes were closed, their lips were parted. They could almost taste each other...

'I've brought you some-Oh!'

The cook's voice made them jump, and instantaneously they stepped back. Hearts beating fast and nervous, their breathing erratic.

'Mrs Patmore! Come in,' Father John spoke at last, after a few seconds of intense staring - back and forth. His throat was dry; he cleared it soundly.

'I hope I'm not interrupting-.'

'No!' They both answered in unison, making the cook cock her brow at them.

'We were just…'

'I fell from the ladder,' Anna answered with an awkward smile, trying to make it sound as normal and innocent as possible. 'If Father John wasn't here you would have found me dead on the floor.'

'Goodness me! You should keep him around then…in case you need saving again.'

The priest and the teacher eyed each other while the cook placed the tray on one of the nightstands. 'I brought you some lemonade. Hard working folks deserve a cool drink.'

'Thank you, Mrs Patmore,' Father John smiled at the cook, his heart still loud in his ears.

'Sister Madeleine will be coming home from the hospital later today. I just thought you needed reminding.' Mrs P chuckled to herself as she walked out of the room with one last glance toward the two.

Anna let loose of a big breath and for the first time, she noticed her trembling knees, racing heart, and sweaty hands. John had walked toward one of the windows, trying to understand what had almost happened just moments before.

'I'm sorry.' she said, her voice quiet, unsure, unable to look at him just yet. The strength of his arms, though, could still be felt around her waist, the caress of his breath on her skin.

'No, it's all right.' He turned to her with a shy smile. 'I...it's just...it was nothing...'

 _Nothing?_ Funny. Usually, nothing doesn't feel so strong, so powerful, so overwhelmingly real.

'Let's drink our lemonade. I could use some cooling down,' Anna suggested, but that didn't come out the way she intended. 'I mean…'

'Yes…' John nodded. 'I need to go back to the office afterwards and add these new items to our list.'

'I can help you with that too...if you want,' she offered. She realised he might not want her to, but the need to be around him was as strong as ever. For some reason, she felt there was something else, something more to happen.

'Thank you, Anna, I do want.' He smiled at her. In his heart, he wanted her around him always, but in his mind, he knew they were steps from the abyss. He found he didn't care.

John didn't know it yet, but they were already falling. And soon enough, they would hit the ground, for good or bad.

 **x**

'I had the folder right here…' John groaned, going through his desk drawers. He was always so organised, and now, he couldn't find the list of items they had worked so hard writing down to sell.

'Maybe you misplaced it,' Anna said, looking around his office trying to understand where else he could have put it.

'I probably did. There's been so much going on lately.' John sighed tiredly. His mind running one hundred miles per second, thinking about everything they needed to do, everything they had done...especially about what had almost happened. 'Can you check over there?' he pointed to a side table next to the door that led to his bedroom.

Anna nodded, walking to it. 'Oh, your Bible is here too on the floor. It must have fallen off.'

When he looked, she was reaching for it, and in that very moment he froze. 'Wait, don't-,' and in the next, he watched as she picked the Holy Book off the floor, together with the list they had been working on and a photograph of a young baby, not one-year-old yet, dark hair, round face, a sweet, loving smile.

'Oh!' Anna exclaimed, kneeling down to gather everything at once. 'I found it! I found the list.'

He was there with her in a flash, and she noticed the urgency in his expression, the frown on his brow, the panic. 'I'm sorry, Father. Is everything all right?' She held the photo in her hand.

'It's all right. Don't worry.' John told her, taking the picture from her fingers and holding it tenderly to his heart. Maybe it was just meant to happen this way.

'Is it you?' she asked, out of pure curiosity. _Who else could it be?_ He had no siblings; he had never worked with children before. A cousin? A friend's child?

'No, it's not me.' He sighed again, this time sadly, heartbroken, he looked at the photograph with a longing so intense she had been able to feel it in her heart.

Indeed, it had been meant to happen that way, else, she would never know. Else he would never have the courage to tell her.

'He's...he's my son.'

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:** Revelations. _

**_Thank you for reading :)_**


	11. Chapter 10

_**A/N:**_ _Good evening, friends! It took longer than we'd like, but it's finally here :) Real life sometimes happens and there's nothing we can do about it._

 _We hope this story still interests you and that you enjoy chapter 10. It's a long one again, to make it up for the waiting :) Let us know what you think! Exciting times are coming!_

 ** _Terrie & Handy_ x**

 ** _Disclaimer:_** _Same as chapter 1-9._

* * *

 _ **Blessed ~**_ _Chapter 10_

 **x**

 _If it's meant to be, it will be._

 **x**

They had made a deal. He had asked her for time to think, and of course, she agreed. He needed to tell her in the right way, and he needed to tell her the whole truth, no matter the outcome.

'After dinner then? Is that enough time for you?'

'Yes. After dinner. Thank you, Anna,' he had said, and he couldn't resist reaching out to touch her hand.

Neither had wanted to go to bed the way things stood, with such an important matter hanging over their heads. No, sleep wouldn't come, that much was sure.

He had a son. _Had_ a son. In a past life where only memories go. So distant but at the same time so present still. The smell, the sounds, the warmth of a baby's breath against his neck. Smiles, tears, and the aftermath of despair. The memories would catch him unaware and were as much a part of him as his beating heart. They were always there, forever there.

 **x**

The sun was low on the horizon, trying its best to be warm and reassuring. But still, he shivered. He held the photograph of his boy in his hand in the waning light. He didn't need it anyway. His son's image was imprinted on his mind and deep in his soul.

'Father?'

It was Anna's voice which broke him from his thoughts. Sweet and kind, already supporting of whatever he would tell her in the moments to come.

'Are you all right?' She placed her hand on his back.

When he turned, she was smiling, and he couldn't help but smile back. _Oh God, I don't deserve her, but I can't lose her._ He handed Anna the photograph he had hidden from everyone until then.

'I'm all right.'

'He's beautiful,' she told him, studying the boy in the picture. It was hard to see details in the ebbing light.

'Yes.'

'What's his name?'

'David.'

'A beautiful name too…' She smiled again before turning serious. His eyes were on the horizon. She feared the reply to her next question would be the worst. 'Where is he now?'

'I like to think he's with God,' his voice broke. 'That he found his place amongst the angels.'

'Oh John, I'm so sorry.'

With a heavy sigh, he began. 'I married young.' There was no perfect way to tell her. He had to speak from his heart, without thinking, only feeling.

'She was pregnant, and it was my responsibility to make it right. Her father was a strict man and, well, it was the honourable thing to do. But in the end, maybe it wasn't. David would still be alive.'

Anna waited until he was ready to go on.

'Her name was Vera. There was no love, no connection - just lust.' He felt his ears turning hot. The words were humiliating, but she deserved the complete truth. 'We fought each other day and night.'

Anna placed her hand on his back again, silently encouraging him to continue.

'There was nothing to build on, you see? But then, David was born and for a while things were better. Anna, we were so young, and there was no love between us, just the feeling of being trapped in a life neither of us wanted. We began to fight again. Nearly every night...and David would cry, only then did we stop.'

Memory took him back again, to his son's cries. To sleepless nights watching over his darling boy and wishing everything had been different. But not him. Not David. He wanted David in any version of his life. He wanted his son even when he was unhappy. He smiled then, almost bitterly. _How could a love so strong be born from such a weak relationship?_ Then, the last second of light shone, and darkness crept over them. Just in time. Just in time to hide his tears, but not the despair in his voice.

'One night, though, we didn't stop. I came home late; it had been raining, and I was...very, very drunk.' He took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

Anna took in everything he had said; no judging, no jumping to conclusions, just listening and praying for this story not to be as sad as she was expecting.

'I found Vera in bed with my best mate. I remember David, crying in his cot in the corner of the room. I didn't react well.' His voice trembled. 'I broke my _mate's_ nose before he ran away. I could hardly stand anyway so when Vera jumped on me and knocked me down I must have passed out, that's when she took my son and left. I only found out the next morning that she had gotten a taxi and...they had been hit by a truck. No one survived.'

John heard Anna gasp in shock. His face crumbled, this time in fury. If life had been fair, it should have been him. But in a away, part of him had been left there, on that one night that had changed and scared his life forever. That, and remorse. Deep, despairing remorse.

She was crying too, silently, the picture of his son warm in her hand. 'Oh, John, I'm so sorry.'

'Now you understand why I…'

'Why you're a priest?' she asked.

'Why I had the need to find something else in life.'

'To punish yourself? Is that what you mean? Penance?''

Her question caught him by surprise, by her sudden boldness and discernment. _Was it that obvious?_ When even sometimes he tried to forget the reason he turned to the priesthood?

'You remind me of Terence when you talk like that.' He chuckled, trying in vain to shift the subject of their conversation.

'And I'm sure he advised you against it, didn't he?' she insisted, feeling almost a bit upset.

'He did,' said John. 'But, I needed this. I needed to give myself to others, to live to serve others. I was far too selfish, too...every decision I ever made for myself, I failed at.'

'I doubt you were ever selfish.' Her voice was soft as she handed him the photograph, her fingers caressing the skin of his hand.

'Believe me, I was.' He sighed again and briefly closed his eyes; her touch made him feel better even when it shouldn't, even when it was so wrong. But Anna was never wrong. She was everything that was right, everything that was meant to be, and he knew it. Deep in his soul he knew all that and more.

'Maybe, if you say so, but you're not anymore, John.'

He shrugged his shoulders, 'Perhaps not as much.'

Even in the darkness, she could see his gentle smile. The sea before them was turning a dark silver. The moon began to shine and the night settled in. They began to walk further away from the Orphanage. In silence, side by side, their steps matching and their hands brushing against each other. It was comfortable like this, and deeply connecting. Something neither had ever felt before but could never again live without.

'It's not your fault, you know.' Anna's voice was low against the cool, gentle breeze.

'Isn't it? She tried to find what I couldn't give her with someone else. It wasn't her fault I didn't make her happy.' Words he had used to convince himself ever since, but that sometimes, even to him, sounded a bit too far fetched.

'Did she make you happy? Doesn't it have to work both ways?' There, she had caught him again. His own thoughts back at him.

'I shouldn't have let her go,' John replied, and in a way he was completely right about it. 'Especially at that time of the night and with David. But I was passed out drunk. I never heard her leave. I never said goodbye to my boy. When she closed the door behind her…what was he thinking? Was he crying?' He sighed, heartbroken. 'I would give everything to hear to his cries again.'

'You can't shoulder all the blame, John.'

'I was a drunk, Anna!' His voice came harsher than he had intended. 'I drank every day. I knew I had a son and wife to go home to, but I drank anyway.'

She shook her head, stopping him in his tracks, to make him face her. Her hand on his arm, her expression sure. Only the stars and the moon lighting up their way, not much, but enough for this moment. 'Because you were unhappy. You wouldn't have turned to alcohol if your life had been fulfilling.'

'I don't know…' John shook his head. 'Maybe I would still drink.'

'You wouldn't. I know it. How old were you?' she asked.

'I'd just turned nineteen.' It seemed like a century ago. Why was it still so raw?

'Nineteen? You weren't much more than a boy. John, you need to forgive yourself. You're a good man. The best I've ever known.'

The certainty in her voice was a balm to his soul. Her trust in him, in the person he was now, gave him life. 'Do you want to sit down?' he offered.

'It's going to be a long night, isn't it?' Anna asked with a smile.

'Yes.'

'And I want to know everything.'

'You will; it's only fair. I started it, didn't I?'

"Yes, you did.' The grass felt cool; Anna was the one suffering the most, for her dress didn't quite cover the expanse of her legs. They sat on top of the hill, his walking stick resting between them, his collar now in his pocket along with the photograph of his son. Anna's hair flowed in the breeze, spreading the sweet smell of her to all of his senses.

'Terence took me out of my self-imposed hell, as he calls it.' John ran a hand through his hair, freeing the stubborn dark lock over his brow, which always took her breath away. 'About one year after the accident. He found me at home, in a wasted state and two days after I was staying at his home.'

'What made you think being a priest was right for you?'

'As I said, living only for myself wouldn't do. I didn't deserve it. So I thought I should give myself to others. I was brought up in the church. I'd even had dreams of going into the priesthood when I was a boy. So at the time it seemed like the right path to take. I thought it would soothe my heart, my soul.'

'You thought?' she questioned, perplexed with the tone of his voice.

'Terence advised me, he warned me not to do it. He said being a priest was not an escape. Being a priest is to be fully committed, and I never was. I thought I was, but I was only fooling myself, because, I wanted to escape. I wanted to forget about life on the outside, the life that everyone lives. That life only brought misery to me. That's what I thought.'

'And you don't think that anymore?'

'I don't...but now it's too late for regrets.'

'It's never too late.' Anna sighed, admiring the reflection of the moon in the still ocean. 'Only when you die is it too late.'

John smiled. 'For years, after I came back from war, I thought of quitting many times, but I didn't have the courage to do it or the reason. I gave Mass now and then, heard confession, visited the sick and lived with other priests. I didn't feel happy, but I didn't feel unhappy either. Quitting for what? To go back to my old life? There was nothing left for me to go back to. And that's why Terence gave me this place. He felt these children would be able to keep my mind focused instead of...my constant doubting.

'And…' Anna faced him with an inquisitive expression. 'Did it work?'

'In a way it did,' he looked straight ahead. He couldn't meet her eyes just yet, not before he confessed all of it. 'In many other ways, it didn't.'

That only made Anna more curious. He knew she could see into his heart, and there was nothing he could do about it; not that he wanted to. Not really.

'I found focus here, I found my calling, what I love to do. I love children, and I love caring for them. But...I found something else, something forbidden for a man in my position.'

'As a priest, you mean?'

He nodded. She was making him say it all. He obliged. 'Yes. I was never expecting to find you, Anna. Perhaps it was meant to be. I wouldn't be here otherwise.'

Silence fell between them then. Minds ticking. Hearts racing. Their legs touched, and slowly, she leant onto his shoulder, and he was glad she did.

'I was offered a place in Cornwall last year, at a non-religious orphanage.' It was her time to speak now, and he allowed himself to rest his cheek against her head. 'I told them I wasn't ready to leave Whitby just yet. I felt like there was something more here. Something yet to happen. I told them, if they would have me, I would go next year.'

 _What?!_ John sat up, facing Anna at once. 'And, will you go?'

'If I have to...if-.'

'No...don't go, Anna. Please don't go,' he replied urgently, taking a deep breath. 'I made a promise I have to keep. To fill this bracelet with charms...' His hand was on her wrist as he spoke, touching the chain he had given her just yesterday. 'And if you go I won't be able to keep it. I'd hate if that happened.'

'But you're not free to make such promises, Father.' She looked down, watching as he caressed her skin. 'Not free enough.'

'I don't deserve the freedom, I know,' he said, chastened, his hand now on her own, touching her palm, her fingers. His words didn't match his actions. He held her hand and brought it to his chest. Her eyes were sad, teary, realising that this was the climax of this whole conversation. That this might be all they'd ever have, and even then, it was wrong. So wrong.

'What do you deserve then?' she asked, his grip stronger now.

'I don't know, Anna.'

'What do you want to deserve?'

'You know the answer to that. You know all the answers. I want to deserve your heart.'

Anna rose to her feet, turning her back to the sea. The wind began to blow, bringing the salt right into their lungs.

'And so you give me this?' She brought her arm up to show him his gift to her. 'To replace what I can't really have?'

'Anna-.'

'Because I love you, John. I know it's not right for me to say it but…' her voice caught in her throat, and she had to hold back her tears. 'I do believe you deserve to be loved. And I believe you want to. In everything you say, and in everything you do…but I will leave this place if -'

'No!' He stood and reached for her instantly, holding her face between his hands. 'Please, don't leave.'

'I just...I don't know if I can stay like this,' Anna told him, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eyes travelling to her every feature. The same energy of the day before, this time, so much greater. She closed her eyes, bewitched by his touch, by the delicacy of this moment. 'Loving a man who cannot be loved. Loving a man of God, and knowing that he loves me back. Knowing that I'm the reason for his damnation.'

'No!' John insisted. 'I wanted to quit long before I came here. You have nothing to do with my doubts. Quite the opposite,' he smiled, his eyes watery, his feelings so close to the surface. _Was this the whole thing of being in love? Like an incurable illness where symptoms can't be stopped?_ 'You are the only sure thing in my life. The only thing that feels right, even if I know it shouldn't. I can't help it, Anna. I can't. You're not my damnation; you're my salvation.'

'I'd wait for you all my life,' she told him, taking a deep breath, and before he knew it, her lips were touching the corner of his mouth, so gently, so briefly, and so everlasting at the same time. He thought he was dreaming, that he would wake up at any second. He closed his eyes. 'Even if this brief moment was the only thing we would ever have.'

'Would you be happy with just that?' When he dare to open them, she was looking straight at him, his hands still on her cheeks, her eyes tender and filled with longing. He loved her more than ever just then and there, and slowly, he touched her lips with his fingertips. Still warm, still loving. How he longed to claim them for his own.

'I would because I now know what true love is.' She smiled as he stepped back, his hands dropping to her waist.

'Is that enough?' he asked, feeling her slip away from his grasp.

'What else can I have... John?' And with that his hands dropped, cold and lonely, already missing the feel of her. She walked away, back to the Orphanage and he watched her go until the darkness was too deep to see her anymore. And that's when he walked too, as fast as he could, drifting just a little away from the path they had come; not wanting to meet her. There was something he needed to do before seeing her again. Someone he needed to speak to.

 **x**

'Terence? I'm sorry to call you so late. Were you sleeping?'

' _You're lucky I wasn't! You know my sleep is sacred, John Bates!'_

'I know, and I'm sorry but, I need to talk to you.'

' _I know that tone of your voice. What torments you, son?'_

'Not torments, Terence. Not this time.'

 **xxx**

It had been difficult to sleep, to focus on something other than her - her kiss, her hands, her warmth; a smell that so stubbornly crept in on him, on his dreams, on his clothes, on himself. He had lain awake most of the night, looking into the darkness of his room, wondering if he had been right in what he had said, in what he had done, and above all, in his thoughts. Improper thoughts for a priest. But he was a man also, a man who had fallen deeply in love with a woman. He tried to fight against it, but since when does the heart listen? Since when do reason and feelings walk side by side?

His eyes would close now and then, sleep trying to win, but there she would appear, in all her grace, with more kisses and words of love, more...oh, so much more. Why should he fight it then? If a love like this made him feel so wonderfully complete.

 **x**

In her bed, the bracelet felt warm against her skin, almost like a living thing. She stared at it, twisting and turning it, flipping over the little heart to read ' _Only You'_ again and again. John had poured his heart out tonight, in the same way, he had gifted her this bracelet, to tell her his every secret, show himself bare, without anything else to hide. Should she feel guilty about that? In the end, she wasn't the reason for all his doubts.

Sleep finally won her over, but for John, it wouldn't do. When the sun rose, he was still awake, remembering the phone call he had made last night. He was excitedly anticipating Terence's next visit; some matters could only be adequately discussed eye to eye.

A few hours later, he found himself in his office doing some actual work, listing the last items to sell and already planning on giving Avery Owens a call about the refurbished bus he was trying to sell. The proceeds from the sale of the better paintings had come to much more than anyone had hoped for. His glasses were perched on the tip of his nose; the clock was ticking loudly, and the children's laughter came through his open window.

'May we come in, Father?' Anna stood in the doorway of his office, about an hour after breakfast; little Rosie, sporting a big, pink bow in her hair, was dandling in one of the teacher's arms.

For a moment, seeing the two of them together, John felt he had a glimpse of his future. 'Oh, of course. Come in, ladies,' he smiled, removing his readers. 'What's wrong, little one?' he asked as soon as he noticed Rosie's pouty lips.

'This cheeky monkey has a new boo boo on her knee and only Father John's kisses will do.' Anna said playfully as she placed the girl on his lap.

'Is that so?' John kissed the girl's blonde hair and straightened the bow on her head. 'How bad is that boo boo?'

'Ouch!' Rosie complained, even though no one had touched the pink skin on her knee. It was barely visible. 'Blow, Faver, blow. Blow the ouchie away,' she demanded, raising her leg almost to his face.

'Of course I'll blow…' John chuckled, '...see me blowing?' Rosie nodded seriously, watching as he continued with his healing task.

'She fell in the garden. On the grass.' Anna cocked her eyebrow with a grin. 'She claimed she couldn't walk unless _Faver_ took care of her.'

'Ouch, ouch!' Rosie insisted as John continued to blow on her knee. But that wouldn't last too long when she spotted the priest's notepad and pen on the the desk. 'Can Wosie wite?'

'Of course, you can write, my darling.' John gave the girl a sheet of paper and a pencil, and he stood to sit her down in his chair. 'You write all you want, Peanut.'

'Wosie wite a story 'bout a kitty!'

'I think that sounds just like the best story ever.' John winked, and the girl beamed at his encouragement. 'Anna,' he walked toward the teacher then, who was watching the scene with a smile on her face.

'Yes?'

'I...can we…' he whispered, chancing a glance at the little girl, before walking Anna to one of the windows. 'I called Terence last night.'

'You did?' Anna asked, curious.

'Yes and, he's visiting soon. He can't come this week but maybe the next.'

She listened to him attentively, holding back more questions. She knew he would tell her everything.

'I told him there was something he needed to know and advice I needed to hear.'

'Advice?'

'Yes...I need to know what I can and cannot do.'

'About?'

'Anna, you won't have to wait your whole life for...us. I told you I thought about quitting long before coming here.'

'You did...but would you have?'

'I would if you'd want me to.'

'I daren't ask you that,' Anna said, trying to tamp down the hope she felt.

'You wouldn't be asking. You would just be telling me what you want to happen.'

'You know my answer then, John.'

He smiled, nodding. 'That's why I need to talk to Terence, face to face. I need to tell him all that has happened, and all that...we feel. All that I wish for our future.' He stepped closer taking her hand. It was so hard not to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but that would have to wait, and he would wait. That time would come.'

'Faver! Look! I wrote one, two, free, four... five, twenty forty.'

'Did you now?' John turned to the girl, admiring her scribbling. 'Oh, you're so clever, Peanut. And your handwriting is beautiful too.'

'Anna helped Wosie,' the toddler continued, pretending to write her name down 'W...o...sieeeeee.'

'Miss Smith is indeed an excellent teacher. Soon enough you'll be writing whole books,' John chuckled, looking over at Anna and winking.

'No! Wosie pick flowers. Lilies!'

'All right then,' Anna said, walking to Rosie and lifting her from the chair. 'Let's leave Father to his work now, sweetheart. We'll pick some flowers for his office, what you say?'

'Okay.' Rosie giggled happily, before pointing to her knee once more. 'One more time, Faver,' she said, and John obliged. 'I wuv you, Faver. Anna, let's go pick Faver flowers!'

 **xxx**

It was Sunday, and the entire student body and staff turned out after Mass to see Brenda off in her new life. Sister Madeleine was at the head of the line. She felt Brenda was one of their bright stars and took a good deal of personal credit for that. After all, along with helping out in the nursery, in her spare time Brenda helped in the Sister's office. So there she was, standing before Brenda, imparting farewell words of advice.

'Work hard, read your bible and say your prayers every day. The secular world can be an evil place. _Don't be tempted!_ Don't waste all the time I've spent on your upbringing. You represent all that is good about The Blessed Virgin. Do not let me down!'

'I promise Sister. I will remember everything you taught me,' Brenda replied, her hands clutched together behind her back.

'Oh for heaven's sake,' Jane muttered under her breath, but she was pleased to see Brenda had her fingers crossed.

Next in line was Father John, with Rosie in his arm nearest to Sister and young Liam in the other.

'Brenda, I'm so proud of you, and I know you'll be a wonderful nurse because you're a wonderful young woman. I'm glad I arrived in time to meet you. And remember, this is your home, Brenda, you are loved here and you'll always be a part of us, wherever you go.'

'Thank you, Father. I don't know what my life would have been like if I'd never come here, but I can't imagine it being any better than it has been. I'll make you all proud, I promise,' Brenda sobbed.

Anna who had been standing on Father's left stepped up and took the tearful teen in her arms. 'You already have, my darling, you already have. And I want you to remember, we'll always be here for you. We're only a letter or a phone call away.'

Brenda took her handkerchief from her pocket and sniffled into it one more time. 'I don't know why I'm crying. I've been working toward this moment for years. I'll be fine.'

'You bet you will, just as soon as we board that train to York. And don't you worry, I won't leave you on your own until you feel settle in and comfortable and have made one or two new friends,' Jane told her.

'Wait!' James shouted at one end of the line, an envelope on his hands and everyone's attention on him. Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage to speak, he took a step forward. 'Brenda...I have something for you.'

'You do?' The girl's brow rose in surprise as she approached him. 'What's that then?' It was rare when something too good came from James.

'Well…' the boy was blushing, his ears burning. He brushed his hair back and handed her the envelope. 'To remind you of us. Of your family.'

Brenda took the gift, a hint of curiosity and disbelief on her face, and opened it to see its content. It was a row of signatures and little messages from everyone, drawings, favourite verses and a big 'We will miss you, Brenda,' on the bottom.

'It was James' idea,' Father John spoke up with a big smile. 'All his.'

'Oh, James.' Brenda sighed, immensely moved, and without thinking twice, she wrapped her arms around the lad and held him tight. 'Thank you so much!'

'It's all right.' James coughed shyly against her shoulder, before patting Brenda's back as awkwardly as humanly possible. Everyone was giggling at the sight.

'Thank you, everyone.' The girl blew a kiss toward the line of people. 'I miss you all, already!'

'Are you all set? Let's go Brenda! Mr Rivers has his engine running. We don't want to keep your future on hold.'

Everyone cheered except Sister Madeleine whose focus had turned to young Liam climbing higher in Father John's arms until he was hanging over his shoulder, joyously pounding out a drumbeat on Father's back. When the boy raised his head to grin at her, she watched in horror at the amount of drool flowing from his mouth and down the priest's shirt and vest. 'Ugh,' she uttered and averted her gaze. This time, Sister caught sight of Rosie who had squirmed around in his other arm and was looking straight at the old nun. Then the naughty child had the audacity to scowl at Sister, sticking out her tongue and issuing a juicy _pfffftttt_ in Sister's direction. The nun wiped the spray off her face, stamped her foot and headed back inside the building. _These children are turning into heathens, and it was all that man's fault!_

 **x**

That evening the dining hall was busy as usual; dinner was about to be served. Most of the children had taken their places, and Father John had to choose with whom he would sit tonight. Hmm...the older boys, he thought to himself. There were football matters he would like to discuss with them.

'May I, gentlemen?' He smiled as he took a seat beside Teddy.

'It's been awhile since you sat with us, Father!' said Philip, unwrapping his cutlery from the napkin.

'It's been a busy week,' Father John winked, looking around the table. There was someone missing. 'Where's James?'

His question was met by long expressions and an annoyed sigh from Louis.

'He's in the room,' Philip replied.

'Why so?'

'Well…'

'He thought he would cheer the girls up with a new haircut, but well,' Howie explained, taking a few seconds to continue. 'He's not a hairdresser so it looks more like a badly shorn sheep than anything else.'

'Good God!' the priest exclaimed, trying his best to suppress a laugh. How typical of James.

'Now he won't come down,' Philip continued. 'Only when his hair is long again, he said.'

Father smiled, shaking his head. 'I'll talk to him. He can't miss his dinner, can he? You go ahead and eat; I'll be back in just a minute.'

He rose from the table, and quickly he made his way to the dining hall door, where Anna was standing and waiting for her class to go in.

'Where are you off to?' she asked him.

'You won't believe it, then again, maybe you will,' John began. 'James has decided to cut his hair just to please the girls, and I've been informed he won't be seen in daylight again until it grows all back.'

Anna gasped. 'Goodness! He's so proud of his hair...poor boy.'

'Indeed he is. I'll see what I can do with him. He can't stay in his room forever.'

With that and a gentle smile, he left, heading up the stairs that led to the children's quarters.

 **x**

'James?' Father John knocked on the door before entering. It was dark inside, the curtains had been drawn shut, and he was just able to see enough not to bump into the furniture. 'Are you here?'

'Yeah, but you can't make me come down, Father, because I won't.' The boy's voice came from his left, and when the priest looked around, he saw the faint silhouette of James laying face down on his bed. Father turned on the lights.

'I'm afraid that's not an option, son. You'll need to leave this room, even if it's just to use the loo,' Father joked, trying to cheer the boy up. It didn't work.

'I'll just wait for my hair to grow back,' James groaned, covering his head with the pillow as soon as the light hit him. 'I'll wait until the middle of the night to use the loo. I can run. No one will see me. I'm pretty fast.'

'It can't be that bad, can it? Let me see, James.' Father stood at the edge of the bed and with a quick motion, he took the pillow from the boy's grasp.

'No!' James moaned, sitting up and covering his head with his hands.

'Come on, James. Don't be silly. No one's here but me.'

The boy sighed, defeated, dropping his hands to his lap. 'Just don't laugh.'

Father John didn't laugh, but it had been difficult not to. James' long, silky auburn hair had been replaced with uneven spiky tufts and even a few nearly bald spots on the sides. _Oh James, what have you done?_

'It was very thoughtful of you, to try to change your looks to please the girls-.'

'They fancy nice hair, and my hair's the best, well, _was_ the best. I just wanted it a bit more modern. They deserve to look at something nice to feel better because of Brenda leaving. But I ruined everything,' the boy said sadly.

'I'm sure they'll appreciate your gesture, but son, people like you for more than your looks,' Father sighed. 'But we'll talk more about that another time.' The priest ran his hand over the lad's hair, trying to smooth it down, to no avail.

'It looks worse than a bald cat, Father.'

'You still have hair, James.'

'Only on top.'

'May I?' At the door, to their surprise, stood Anna.

'Oh no!' James threw himself face first back on his bed and pulled the pillow over his head again.

'Yes, come in,' Father smiled at her, noticing the magazine she carried.

'I've have an idea!' she said.

Father tilted his head, looking at her questioningly.

'May I see your hair, James? Please?' Anna implored.

'I guess, but don't laugh,' the boy cried, sitting up one more time.

'Oh!' Anna exclaimed as soon as she saw the boy's state, sharing a knowing look with the priest. 'Let me see…' she sat down next to James then, turning the pages of her magazine. 'I found one I think it would work!'

'What?' Father John asked, leaning in to see.

'It's called _College Contour_. Oh, it is lovely, and it would suit you so well, James. Look.'

James eyed the illustration of the hairstyle, nodding in agreement. 'I rather like it! That's what I wanted to do.'

'Now, do you think you can do it, Father?' she asked the priest, who was eying the style himself.

'I could try...I did cut some hair when I was in the army. Could you find me a good pair of scissors?'

'I have proper scissors for hair,' Anna nodded.

'It's settled then, if James will trust me.'

James shrugged his shoulders, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 'I reckon I've got nothing to lose.

'I'll get the scissors for you and then leave you to it,' Anna said. 'The girls will love your new look, James. Your hair is in good hands with Father.'

 **x**

It was some time later when James and Father made their appearance in the dining hall. Dinner was coming to an end. The smell of vanilla pudding was intoxicating making the two even hungrier.

But that was until they realised all eyes were on them, better still, on James. Even Anna was impressed by the boy's new hairstyle. Father John had done a wonderful job, using a bit of his own pomade to give the look a finished, professional touch.

'Whoa, James, looking fine,' Howie told him as the lad joined his mates.

'Thanks.'

'Good job, Father!' Philip cheered the priest. 'You could be a barber if you weren't a man of the cloth,' the boy winked.

'Thank you, Philip, that's very kind of you.'

'Maybe you can cut my hair too, Father. One day.' Teddy suggested.

'You look like one of those magazine chumps, James!' Louis laughed and James shot him a threatening look. 'That's what you wanted, wasn't it?'

'Yeah, I guess it was,' James confessed.

'And look!' Howie exclaimed, this time in a low, whispered voice, he elbowed James in the ribs to make him look toward the teen girl's table. 'They're all impressed.'

James turned around in his chair, to see the girls giggling and sharing secrets when they were caught staring. Father John could only grin and shake his head at their teenage ways. _Oh to be young and flirty._ He had been quite the charmer himself when he was their age.

'Do you think Pam likes my new look?' James asked his friends, his eyes still on her.

'I think she's the one who likes it the most!' Philip punched him in the shoulder, and they all laughed.

For one last moment, before Mrs Patmore came in with his and Father John's dinner, James looked back at Pamela who was still eyeing him. They shared a smile and a blush, and he knew then his ordeal had been worth it. If only to see Pam smile...anything would be worth it.

 **xxx**

At precisely nine o'clock Tuesday morning Anna stood outside Father John's office door the moment Jane stepped through it carrying her train case. 'Janie, you're back. How did it go with Brenda?'

'Just got back. I caught the early train from York. I was just filling Father in on everything. Jane leant into her friend to loudly whisper, 'Annie darling, we need to take a weekend girl's get-away. The men of York are fab. And I don't know about you, but I could use a fabulous man in my life.'

One glance at John's flushed cheeks told Anna he had heard. Jane wasn't the most discreet person around. She pulled her further out into the hall and away from John's door. 'So tell me, how's Brenda getting along?'

'Oh great. She'll do just fine,' Jane replied. 'Say what do you have there?' She had noticed a flash of silver in Anna's hand.

Anna reluctantly opened it to reveal her bracelet resting in her palm. "It's a bracelet.'

'It's a charm bracelet! And it's new! Oh my goodness! You're back with Gordon again, aren't you? He got that for you. Why didn't you -,'

'No Janie, I'm not. That's all over. I'll never be with Gordon.'

'But I know that bracelet is new. Who's it from? Spill the beans,' Jane insisted, never wanting to be out of the loop.

'It's from me.' Father John had quietly stepped up behind Jane. 'For her birthday.'

Jane looked from one to the other. 'Oh? You bought her a charm bracelet?'

'I did,' he nodded.

'All right then.' Jane looked up at the priest, giving him a saucy grin. Then she picked up her cherry red train case and said to Anna, 'We'll talk, love. Ah, it's wonderful to be home!'

Both watched as Jane mounted the stairs.

John shoved his hands into his pockets, threw back his head and sighed, 'I probably shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.'

Anna only shrugged her shoulders.

'I just didn't want her thinking you'd gotten back with Gordon. It was stupid of me to say anything, Anna.'

She turned to him then, 'Are you jealous, John?' she said with a coquettish smile.

'No, of course not! I just think the sooner Gordon is completely out of your life, and everyone knows that, the better.'

'He's not in my life, and he never will be.'

John noticed noises coming from the end of the hall. 'Can we take this conversation in my office? Hmm?'

'Good idea. Actually, I'm here because I need your help.' Anna closed the door when they had entered, leaning against it. She watched as John took a seat on the corner of his desk. He had a look of endless love in his eyes.

'Anything. What is it?'

'Just this.'

When Anna let the silver bracelet dangle from her fingers, he had the irrational fear she had come to her senses, and his heart would shatter. But no, that would not happen, his heart was safe with her.

'I need you to fasten this for me. I've never been good with this type of clasp. So, could you, please?' Anna walked forward until she was standing directly in front of him. She was so close he could feel her breath on his face.

She held her wrist up when he took the chain from her hand. 'Who's been doing it for you up until now?'

'No one. I hadn't taken it off and didn't plan on ever doing so, but it got tangled in my hair when I was showering last night. It was terrible. I panicked, but finally got it out, along with a few hairs.'

The clasped was locked, and he held her hand in his, bringing it to his cheek then kissing her palm. 'I think you'd best take it off from now on when you shower. I'll fasten it for you, always.'

'Always?'

'Forever and always.' It was spoken as a vow.

 **xxx**

'Sister?' John tapped on her partially closed door. 'It's Father John. May I come in?' He heard her loudly sigh.

'Oh...if you must. Am I never to get a moment's peace?'

 _That doesn't sound encouraging_ , John thought to himself. He nudged open the door to see Sister Madeleine sitting in the gloomy room in a straight-backed chair, reading. She had a grim look on her face.

It was the first time John had been in here. And he really wasn't one to talk about the gloom, given the broom closet he called a bedroom.

A single bed, a cot really with a grey coverlet, a simple small desk, the chair on which she was sitting, a tiny bedside table. On the other side of the room, a tall wardrobe and her kneeler. The room smelled of candlewax. He wondered if she was doing penance too.

'What do you want, Father?' She didn't even look up at him. 'I came up here to be alone.'

'I know, and I don't mean to bother you, but I've brought you a lunch tray. We need to keep your strength up.'

'I'm not hungry. Leave me be. I have a headache and I don't want to be around all those boisterous children right now.' Sister passed a shaking hand over her eyes.

'Sister, I'm afraid I must insist. I'm not an expert on hypoglycemia, but I have spoken to the doctor. I know that eating on a regular schedule is essential for the management of it. Now, let me take your Bible.' He gently removed it from her hand and laid it on her bedside table. 'If your head aches you probably shouldn't be reading right now either.'

She watched warily as he set the tray on her desk then turn to her bed to prop up her pillow. It was pitifully thin and made little difference. 'Do you have another pillow?' he turned to ask her. 'Or an extra blanket?'

'In the cupboard, but what do you think you're doing? Can't you just leave me be?'

'I'm sorry, I can't,' John said, opening the cupboard door. Ah, there was a thick grey blanket on the top shelf. This should work nicely.

Sister glowered at him when he returned to her bed, folding and rolling the blanket into the shape he desired. When he seemed satisfied with his work, he turned to her and smiled. 'Up we go, Sister. Let's get you comfortable.'

For a moment, she stared at him in disbelief. 'What? Are you mad? I don't want to go to bed, you ridiculous man! Why are you doing this?'

John sat down on the corner of her bed, taking her hand, which she promptly pulled away. 'Because I care about you, Sister Madeleine. I know it doesn't always seem like it but I truly do, and I also know that my coming here to The Blessed Virgin has upset you and your way of life greatly.'

Sister humpfed and turned her head away, but he could tell she was listening. He continued, 'I feel more than a little responsible for at least a part of the stress you've been under these past few months. I'm the director here, and that requires me to be in control, but we don't need to be on the other side of every issue. Can we please start over, Sister?'

She considered his words. 'I think I want to sit on my bed now, Father. Could you...'

John was on his feet in a second, helping to prop her up against the pillow and rolled blanket. 'You'll eat now?'

'If you insist,' she groaned.

'I do,' he said, placing the tray over her lap. 'Now we have a baked chicken breast, a salad with avocado, red onions and feta cheese, and for dessert apple slices and cheddar chunks. And a pot of decaffeinated green tea.' John looked up with a pleased smile.

Sister scowled at him from under her eyebrows.

'What?' he said.

'What? I'm not a child, Father. You don't need to point out everything on my plate.'

John poured her tea for her. 'Oh, I suppose not. Sorry. Mrs P says that it's all in accordance with your diet.' Then he walked to the window, opening the heavy curtain wide, even going so far as to crack the window open to let some fresh air in.

Before Sister could complain, John pulled the straight-backed chair over to her bed and sat down.

'What are you doing? You can leave now, and I'll just get on with my meal. Go.' She cocked her head toward the door.

Father John wasn't budging. 'I thought I'd read to you, Sister. What's your favourite book of the Bible?'

'Revelations,' she said sharply.

'Hmm...my yes. I'll be reading from Psalms, I think.'

'You don't need to bother,' she said, slicing off a piece of chicken and popping it into her mouth.

'But I want to. Let's see, how about the 23rd Psalm. My mother always found it such a comfort.' Although he knew it by heart, he opened her Bible and began to read the short passage.

 _The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want._

Sister laid her fork on the tray. Listening. Father did have a soothing voice.

 _He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters._

The scripture took her back to her childhood when her granny would read it to her every night.

 _He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake._

Her soul felt in need of restoring.

 _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._

How had he known this was what she needed to hear?

 _Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:_

 _thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over._

Sister was feeling sleepy. She let the words wash over her. The last image she saw before drifting off was Father, his eye closed, speaking the words they both knew by heart. Calming, reassuring words...

 _Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever._

When John opened his eyes, he saw that the old nun was sleeping. He would see that she ate when she awoken. He removed the tray from her lap and covered her with a shawl he found at the foot of the bed. She seemed better, less agitated. He blessed her and quietly left the room.

 **xxx**

John was incredibly busy for the next few days, but now he was ready to make a special announcement, an exciting announcement.

They were just finishing up their lunch when Father picked up his knife and clinked his glass calling the room to attention. Before he came to The Blessed Virgin, this would have caused a rush of anxiety to run through the room. _Oh, my goodness! What bad news or rule was coming now?_

With the hiring of the new director all of that had changed. Most of his announcements were of the good news variety and of exciting things to come. So it was now.

'Everyone, I have an announcement to make. As you know, with the permission of the Bishop, Miss Smith and I have been packing up and selling some of the artwork, old books and trinkets around here. Not to say we have anything against art and old books,' he explained. 'The Bishop and I thought the money raised from the sale of these items would be better spent for the benefit of The Blessed Virgin. So far, we have raised quite a hefty sum. In fact, this morning I was able to purchase a school bus for the orphanage, big enough to hold all of us.'

A cheer went up in the room. 'Now it's not a new bus, and it looks it too, but it runs like a champ. I brought it home today, and it's parked out front.'

On hearing that, everyone started to rush to the windows.

'Wait, wait, wait! We'll all go out and see it together, but remember, it's not _pretty_. However, I have a plan for that too.' Having said that, he pointed toward the dining room door. 'Let's have a look,' Father said, leading the way.

From Alf's vantage point, on the roof of the bus, he watched as the Sisters, the teachers, Mrs Patmore and Ivy, the children and even Sister Madeleine trooped through the front door to stand in varying degrees of awe.

Cynthia scrunched up her nose at first glance, and Karen had to agree, saying 'It's kinda old, isn't it?'

'Didn't I say? The important thing is, it's safe and runs well,' said Father, possibly a bit disappointed at some of the reactions. He pointed to Alf standing on the roof, two buckets of water by his side and a push broom in his hand. 'When they get her cleaned up it will be just the ticket.'

Alf mistakenly took that as his cue to empty both buckets, scrubbing hard and sending a shower of dirty ice water splashing onto the gravel drive. The nuns screamed and lifted their skirts, and everyone backed up a few steps.

'What on earth? You fool boy. What's wrong with you?' Mr Rivers rounded the bus, hollering up at him. 'Let them check it out before you go drowning 'em.' He turned to Father John and Sister Madeleine, doffing his hat. 'Sorry, Father, Sister. That boy will be the death of us all.'

Alf just shrugged his shoulders, smiling foolishly down at Ivy.

Surprisingly, it was Sister who spoke up first. 'Well, do we get to see the inside of your big idea, Father?'

'Absolutely, Sister,' he said, offering the old nun his arm. 'And you are the first.'

John helped her into the bus. The interior looked surprisingly respectable. Sister didn't say much, but she did walk to the back and tested out a leather seat or two. She seemed pleased when Father let her take the driver's seat.

John kneeled down next to her. 'Have you ever driven, Sister?'

She scowled at him from beneath her bushy eyebrows, 'Of course not, you ridiculous man.'

'Well, I bet you would have been good.' Although she tried to hide it, he noticed one corner of her mouth turned up slightly. 'Shall we let the others take a look now?'

 **x**

After everyone had gotten their look around - and the interior pleased them much more than the exterior - they all went back to the dining hall to hear Father's plans for further work on the bus.

'Here's what I was thinking. As you all saw, the inside is in pretty decent shape. We're good there. I hope and believe when the outside is washed that won't be _too_ bad either. So, this is my idea. We need to paint our name, _The Blessed Virgin Orphanage_ on both sides and the back, in big, bold, colourful letters. The teachers and I will draw the lettering on, and you all will paint it. And I'm putting our resident artist in charge of that. Jeremy, can you handle the job? Organise our painting teams?'

Jeremy's eyes got big when he heard this. The thought frightened him, but when Teddy pounded him on the back and said, 'Yeah, Jer! You'd be great at that!' and the other boys agreed, the lad smiled just a bit and nodded his head, yes.

'Wonderful!' Father clapped his hands together. 'Now I purpose, for her maiden voyage, we hop on the bus and go the cinema in Whitby, as a treat before we start back to school. Miss Moorsum tells me that on Monday nights they offer the price of the movie and popcorn at half off. How could we pass up a deal like that?'

Arm pumping and applause erupted in the room. John looked at Anna across the way. She was smiling at him. He nodded his head slightly and returned her smile.

 **x**

The old bus rumbled down the hill to the seaside town of Whitby with Father John at the wheel; it's sides emblazoned with _The Blessed Virgin Orphanage_ in bold, proud lettering. Father pulled into the car park, across from the High Street cinema, taking up two spaces. Excitement was at a peak when they all piled out - Anna, Jane, Ivy, Sister Louise, Sister Josephine, Father John and approximately forty children and were soon standing under the lighted marquee.

Father looked over his shoulder at Jane. ' _The Forbidden Planet_? I thought you said _Around the World In Eighty Days_ was playing.'

'Well, it was. It must have changed on Sunday. Does it matter? It's very popular, and it's science fiction. The children will love it, won't you?'

Cries went up. 'Yeah! We want to see Robby the Robot!' They all seemed fascinated by the large movie posters featuring the impressive Robby. 'Please, Father, please!'

John exchanged doubtful looks with Anna and the two nuns, but in the end relented. After all, the goal was to allow his charges to experience the normal things life had to offer, and this movie was all the rage.

'All right!' The priest turned to the group. 'We can go in, but,' he raised his hands up before the eruption of cheers. 'In order and silence. We're not the only ones watching a film tonight. We need to respect everyone as we would like them to respect us, so, no fuss, no talking loudly, or punching, or throwing popcorn or anything.'

Jane had called ahead and had managed to reserve the back four rows of the theatre. So all was arranged, and the excitement was building as Father stepped up and purchased the tickets.

Entering the building, the children were delighted to be greeted by a life-sized cardboard cutout of Robby the Robot. Posters of the film lined the walls, featuring the scenes they were about to enjoy, although the picture of a scantily clad woman proved somewhat worrisome to the adults.

This night promised to be interesting, especially since a good share of the children had never seen the inside of a theatre before. Father stopped to buy ten bags of popcorn to start with and passed them out with the warning to 'Share.'

They all formed an orderly, well-behaved and mostly silent line behind Father John, with the teachers and nuns interspersed in between. Silent that is until Teddy tripped over his own feet, spilling the bag of popcorn he was carrying and causing a bit of a commotion. As they settled in their seats, the reverberation of the soundtrack was already reaching their ears.

But had they noticed there one person who had watched them enter the theatre with an intense hatred growing in his heart. He watched as they exited the bus entered the building.

Leaning against the wall of an adjacent building, he followed the trail of smoke blowing out from his nostrils, like a factory chimney, harsh and dark, a cigarette clenched between his dry lips. His blood boiled when the tall man placed a hand on the woman's back, ushering her in. He made a promise of revenge and a debt yet to be paid. _Soon. Soon enough._

'Enjoy your little outing…' he threw the cigarette to the ground stepping on it hard, one hand brushing his hair all the way back. 'Just don't get too used to it.' He pushed off from the wall and followed them into the theatre, skulking in the shadows.

 **x**

A few minutes into the film everyone was settled. The teens in the fourth row from the back, with Sister Josephine seated on the end and Jane towards the middle, situated to separate the boys from the girls, much to James' dismay. Oddly, Jeremy had been placed next to Miss Moorsum, but on the girl's side.

Behind them sat Sister Louise with the row of middle-grade girls, and in the second row from the back was Ivy and the middle-grade boys. Finally, watching over all, were Anna and Father John, seated in the centre of the otherwise empty last row.

The first glimpse of Robby the Robot was greeted by wild applause, but the appearance of the lovely Altaira Morbius and her skimpy dress was met with catcalls and wolf whistles. John groaned and held his hand to his forehead. 'Ugh, I was afraid this film would be a bad idea.'

'Oh, come on!' Anna said, chuckling. 'They're teenage boys, what did you expect?'

'This is exactly what I expected; that's why I should have know better.'

'Maybe this will cheer you up. I read that _The Forbidden Planet_ was loosely based on _Shakespeare's The Tempest_.'

'Really?' John asked, reaching into their shared bag of popcorn.

'That's what I read. And maybe we can follow this up by having the children read _The Tempest_ with that in mind.'

John considered this. 'You are not only beautiful but brilliant, Miss Smith. How could I ever survive without you?' he whispered in her ear, giving her arm a squeeze.

 **x**

'Stop taking handfuls, Louis!' Howie complained in an angry whisper. 'Father said we gotta make them last!'

'First time I eat some, you git,' Louis replied feeling wrongly accused.

'It's the third time. You think I'm blind? Just because it's dark it doesn't mean-'

'Shut up! Look! Look.' It was James who put an end to the popcorn disagreement, when he grabbed his friend's chin and made him look to the screen. 'Meow!'

It was that one scene every boy in the movie house was waiting for -when the girl in the short dress appeared. Sweet smile, innocent eyes and with an outfit nearly as revealing as Miss Moorsum and Miss Smith's bathing suits had been.

The boys all giggled, and elbowed each other. 'That's some mighty fine female flesh!' Louis laughed, earning him a slap on the back of his head from Sister Louise, sitting behind him.

' _Watch yourself!'_

'Still want to be a priest?' Philip teased Teddy.

'Yeah...I think so,' the boy replied, a bit unsure.

'Don't you tell me she doesn't give you the hots!' James exclaimed, as quietly as he could manage.

'No.' _But she kind of really did_. 'Not one bit.' Teddy really, really wanted to be a priest.

 **x**

Back in the last the last row, Anna and Father continued to watch the teen boys. They saw Sister Louise slap the back of Louis' head and they heard the stifled giggles every time Altaira walked onto the screen.

'Boys will be boys, and they will never keep quiet when they see a pair of shapely legs, no matter how many times they've seen them. You were a boy once, you know it better than I do.'

John smiled at Anna and nodded.

'And it seems like you still do, am I right? ' she quietly teased him.

He nodded, leaning into her shoulder. 'Well, they do say, a man is a boy forever?'

Despite their age difference, Anna made him feel young, almost reckless, and that's what scared him the most. Under the cover of darkness he dared to reach into her lap and gently hold her hand.

 **x**

'Still don't know why he had to sit with us.' Cynthia complained to her friends. Jeremy had sat with them, one empty seat in between, probably because he wouldn't have to share his arm rests with the girls. But the popcorn had to be hand over him now and then, as Father John had made it clear.

'Don't be rude,' Pam scolded her friend. 'He doesn't bite if you don't mess with him.'

'Maybe not, but he looks at you like he will.'

Judith rolled her eyes, before turning to offer the boy more popcorn. 'Want some?'

Jeremy just shook his head no, too interested in the film to even process what Judith even said.

'He's not even that bad,' Pam continued. 'And Brenda would hate you speaking of him that way.'

'Aw, Brenda,' Cynthia sighed and her friends did the same. 'She would love this night. I already miss her.'

'We all do,' Karen pouted.

'Well then, we should write to her and tell her everything that's been happening. We can write her every week. A weekly update. She'd love it.'

The girls cheered as silently as they could, but it wasn't enough for the other spectators.

'Shush!' Jeremy hissed from his seat. 'Stop with that chatter you bints.'

That warning silenced the girls for good.

 **x**

The film was nearing its end. In the darkness of the theatre, all eyes were focused on the big screen, anticipating a dramatic ending. Dr Morbius was dead; the creature had been destroyed and soon, from deep space, Adams, Altaira and Robby the Robot were about to witness the destruction of the forbidden planet, Altair IV.

On Anna's lap, under the light, silk scarf she had brought, they hid their togetherness. The warmth of their skin, the caressing of knuckles, dreaming of they day they would be free to live their love in the open.

'Did you enjoy the film?' John whispered softly, trying his best to keep this conversation to themselves.

'I did. It's been a lovely night,' Anna replied, squeezing his hand. She was talking about more than just the film they were watching.

' _You're_ lovely, Anna,' he whispered.

With a smile, he turned his attention to the final scenes playing out on the screen, but Anna remained there, watching him. Taking in the moment, his words, his soft and gentle voice. She would give anything to be with him like this, forever, even in darkness, even in secret. For once in her life she felt her dreams just might come true. Anna had hope.

* * *

 _ **Next Chapter:** _ A new school year begins and the Bishop arrives with some advice.

 ** _Thank you for reading :)_**


	12. Chapter 11

_**A/N:** At long last, friends! Hope you all enjoy this new chapter and a new turn of this story. Anna and John will come to terms with their relationship/future and now...well, you'll have to read to find out ;) _

_Once again, thank you all for your support, reviews, follows, faves! This fic is so fun to write and we only wished we had more time to do so. Let us know what you think, we love to read your thoughts and speculations; sometimes you are not too far from what's going to happen :P Thank you!_

 ** _Handy & Terrie_**

 _ **Disclaimer:** Same as chapter 1-10. _

* * *

_**Blessed ~** Chapter 11 **~ Part 2**_

 _ **x**_

 _I love you without knowing_

 _how, or when, or from where._

 _I love you straightforwardly,_

 _without complexities or pride;_

 _so I love you because I know_

 _no other way than this:_

 _where I does not exist, nor you,_

 _so close that your hand_

 _on my chest is my hand,_

 _so close that your eyes close_

 _as I fall asleep._

 ** _SONNET XVII ~ Pablo Neruda_**

 ** _x_**

'Hey, girls!' Jane settled herself on the blanket next to the teens. 'Miss Smith and I are doing things differently this year. We've decided to do all of the back to school shopping from a catalogue rather than trying to find what you all need in Whitby. We'll have a much broader selection from which to choose. So, you girls take a look through these two catalogues and mark whatever you think you need...'

'Oh, yes!' cried Pam. 'I can think of oodles of things I need!

'Within reason, Pam! While we have a bit more to spend this year, our funds are still limited. Now, there will be hand-me-downs aplenty, but everyone will get new underwear and a couple of bras, and at least one new outfit.'

The girls all cheered.

'So take a look and mark what you like, just to give Miss Smith and me some ideas. Here're a couple of pencils.' Jane lifted herself off the ground. 'Have fun!' she said with a grin she wore whenever she thought about fashion.

In two days time the new school year would start. It was a beautiful Saturday in early Autumn to be having the annual back-to-school picnic. The sun was high in the sky, and a pleasant, salty breeze was blowing in from the sea. Happy children filled the large lawn, resting on blankets, tossing balls, turning cartwheels, even climbing the big tree, that is, until Sr Madeleine caught them and made Father John reluctantly shoo them down - he was making a concerted effort to remain in her good graces for the day.

Mrs Patmore was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, directing Ivy and Sr Josephine on how to place the food on the long table . The kitchen had outdone itself this year. It was a feast fit for royalty.

Sr Mary Rose, with Anna's help, was attempting to corral the toddlers on a bright plaid blanket, long enough to eat some apple slices with peanut butter. Unfortunately, the little ones were being distracted by budding eight-year-old ballerina, Colette who was endeavouring to teach her friends some basic dance moves with varying degrees of success.

From his seat on the teen boy's blanket, John watched as Anna held the young babe they had secretly named John, in her arms. His heart turned over, and his eyes grew misty behind his sunglasses.

'Aw geez, Father! Do we really need to pick out new clothes?' complained Teddy, handing the catalogue back to him.

'Hey, not so fast there, mate! Give that to me. I want to look! Ladies like a well-dressed man, isn't the right, Father?' James shot back, running his hand through his now shorter but stylish hair. Father had bestowed on him his own jar of pomade, which he had used liberally.

Father William, from the village, had been invited, and upon learning he was quite the footballer, an impromptu match had been arranged for later in the day to the boy's delight.

John smiled when he noticed that at the moment Jeremy, who rarely warmed up to anyone, was in an animated conversation with the visiting priest. He'd even gone so far as to pull out his small notepad of drawings and was showing them to Fr William.

Father John's gaze returned to Anna and the infant she was holding just in time to see Rosie, arms outstretched, barreling his way. 'Faver! Catch Wosie!'

He scrambled to his feet and caught the precious ball of energy, holding her high in the air. 'Hello, Peanut! Are you having fun?'

Rosie laughed, throwing her chubby arms around Father's neck. Of course, she was. Rosie was having the time of her life. She was with her most favourite person in the world.

From her vantage point, Anna smiled.

 **x**

Father walked around the lawn with Rosie on his broad shoulders and young Liam in the crook of his left arm, stopping to talk to the children and adults in turn, until he found himself standing next to Sister Madeleine. 'Sister,' he asked solicitously, 'Have you eaten your lunch? Maybe I could get you something.'

Sister craned her neck to look up at him properly. _Why does he do that?_ she thought. 'Father, please don't coddle me. I've been taking care of myself for seventy years. When I no longer can, you'll be the first to know. Besides, it looks like you have your hands full just now.' She looked warily at the toddlers. It wasn't that she disliked children, but toddlers were always so unpredictable, especially the little girl sitting happily on Father John's shoulders, her pudgy fingers tangled in his hair and her heels pounding against his chest.

Father took this as his cue to sit down in the empty chair next to her. 'They can be a hand full; that's for sure,' he said with a chuckle. 'Liam, son, say hello to Sister.'

Liam gave the old nun a drooly grin and said, 'Bye-bye…' waving his hand at her.

'Peanut, can you say hello to Sister?' the priest ask.

Sister Madeleine looked on in horror as the little girl bent her head down next to Father's, looked intently at the nun then sent a juicy ' _Pffft!'_ her way.

'What are you teaching this child?' demanded Sister, wiping the spittle from her face. 'That's the second time she has done that to me in as many weeks.'

Father was torn between wanting to reprimand the child and chuckling at her actions. He rightly chose to reprimand. 'Rosie! Nice little boys and girls don't do that. Naughty! Now tell Sister you're sorry.'

Rosie did have the good grace to hang her head and say, 'Sowwy.'

After that John decided it was time for a hasty retreat. 'I see Sr Mary Rose, and Anna are packing up the little ones. Probably their nap time. I'll just t

Tèreturn these two to their keeping.' He stood up, once again towering over Sister. 'Will I see you at the football match, Sister?'

'I think not. All of this hubbub is tiring me a bit.'

'Do you need help getting to your room? I could -'

'No, no, no! I can manage. Now go on with you.'

'Well, if you insist...'

'Oh, I do. I do, indeed.'

 **x**

The action, for the most part, had moved to the improvised football pitch just at the bottom of the hill, beyond the back gate. Twenty-two boys of all ages were getting tips from the visiting priest and Father John. Everyone who met him agreed Father William was an asset to the community. Young, strapping, good-natured and kind.

When John saw Fr William had this match well in hand, he excused himself and went off in search of Anna. He didn't have far to look, for she was coming down the hill at that moment, walking arm-in-arm with Jane, a group of girls trailing behind them.

Anna smiled in his direction after settling herself on a blanket and surreptitiously patting the spot next to her.

'Ladies, do you mind sharing your blanket with a tuckered out old man?' John only partly joked, for in truth, watching Father William running around on the field with the students did make him feel his age.

Pam and Karen quickly closed the catalogue they were pouring over. No way did Father John need to see them picking out bras and knickers.

Everyone on the blanket shifted to make room for him. 'Great day for a back-to-school picnic, huh?' After all agreed that it was and had gone back to their catalogue shopping, John bumped his shoulder gently into Anna's, lowered his head and whispered, 'I got a call from the Bishop. He's coming tomorrow.'

 _He's coming tomorrow. This was happening_. Anna could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

 **xxx**

Sunday was one of John's favourite days, especially after mass, that's when a feeling of relaxation that crept over him. The beginning of a new week and a whole seven days until the next ritual. One week to plan, to think ahead, and today - particularly today - it would also set his and Anna's future.

From high on a ladder, attempting to catalogue a wall of books for sale, John let go of an exasperated sigh. 'Why? Why so many books…? And not even good books.' For the life of him, he didn't understand why anyone would want to pay good money for them, but through Anna's efforts they had managed to find a buyer.

Glasses on, sleeves rolled up, his index finger running along the endless rows of books lining the countless shelves. 'He must have collected them just because he could. What a waste of the Orphanage's money. Nothing but an old pack rat...what a load of-.'

'I see God has sent me just in time to stop you from cursing! Once again.'

'Terence!' John turned around with a start, nearly causing him to lose his grip on the ladder. He hadn't been expecting anyone in his office, and much less his old friend, the Bishop. He eyed the man with a confused look. 'But...you weren't meant to come until evening.'

'Goodness, that's some greeting, I must say! I thought you'd be glad to spend some extra time with the old man,' Terence laughed.

'Of course, I am!' John smiled then, climbing down and reaching for his friend, welcoming him in a tight hug. 'Always. I'm just surprised to see you so early.'

'Well, you know I like surprises, John.' The Bishop clapped John's shoulder then settled himself into the chair before the priest's desk. 'You shouldn't be so shocked.'

'No, I suppose not. I know you too well…' John said, taking his seat.

The Bishop pointed to the bookshelves. 'Still doing your inventory, I see.'

John shook his head. 'It's endless, but worth it. We've managed to make quite a hefty amount of money. I can't wait for you to see our new bus.'

'Yes, it's been a worthwhile endeavour. So, I'm here now. We can talk.'

John chuckled. 'You're getting not beating around the bush, are you?'

'No, son. I heard the urgency in your words, and I've kept you waiting far too long. I like to get right to the point, and that's exactly what you're going to do too.'

'No tea, coffee, scotch?'

'No. We'll do that after we're done. Then we'll take our tea in Mrs Patmore's charming kitchen.' Terence winked, 'Now, spit it out before I grow too old.'

'All right…' John let go of a long sigh. _How to begin?_ He ran his hand through his hair once, twice, before facing his friend again. 'Well, I...I fell in love.' His voice broke, both from embarrassment and anticipation. So many feelings were rushing over him right then. 'With a woman,' he added, trying somehow to ease the blow he had just given.

'A woman, you say? My yes, I'd reckoned it would be with a woman,' Terence chuckled, taking off his glasses and calmly cleaning them on the inside of his jacket. 'If not I wouldn't know you at all, and I do.'

John nodded, not sure of what else to say. _Was Terence disappointed? Probably. Was he upset? Most likely._

'Is it Miss Smith?'

'What?' His friend's question took him by surprise; it was almost a shock for lack of another word to describe it. _How did he know? How...just how?_

'Don't try to fool me John, when you never could before. I've known for years you've regretted your decision. You've made that perfectly clear. I've always known the day would come… Well, I sent you here to delay that day. To give you something to think about other than your doubts, but I see I've overplayed my hand and sent you right into a trap.'

The younger priest thought well before speaking again. 'How did you know it was her?'

'Because I've known you your whole life. I saw you growing before my eyes, doing good and not so good things...living, trying to live. And then, you just can't stop talking about your Miss Smith. I know more about her than I know of my mother by now.'

John couldn't help but laugh at his friend's words. 'And...what do I do now? I...I have don't know what-.'

'Nonsense, of course, you do! You want to quit. You want to shuck off the cassock and live a secular life,' Terence told him straight away. 'Oh, don't you make that face now. Your mistake was in the past when you decided to become a priest. Not now. Not when you've finally found your way.'

'Do you believe that?'

'John! You think I'm just saying it because I'm your friend, and I want you to feel better? Don't you know me better than that? I told you, ' _you won't be happy, you won't feel good, you won't find what you need inside a church, giving mass,_ more like.'

'You did,' John sighed.

'Listen, son. Listen carefully; there's nothing wrong in loving. God tells you just that. Love, care, be kind. Love your wife as you love yourself. There's nothing more Catholic than to get married and have a bunch of babies running around.'

'Is it that simple for you?' the priest asked, feeling that Terence was making it all too easy.

'That simple...well, it's not simple it's just the way of doing things. What do you want me to say? You sinned, and now you'll pay dearly for it? You have to remain at your post and forget about the woman. We have to send her far away never to be heard from again?'

'She thought about that at one point - leaving. She was offered a place in Cornwall. Some orphanage there, a private one. She thought she should take the offer to…'

'To redeem herself? To punish herself for the feelings she has for you, a man of the cloth?' Terence asked, and John sadly nodded.

'And what would that accomplish? Would you forget about her? Or would she forget about you? Would you, both, not resent this institution for what it didn't allow you do? You would grow old and bitter. I say this, from the bottom of my heart, if you truly love her, then resign. Leave this place, take her with you, find a home where you both can live in happiness and peace.'

'That's not very...Bishop-like,' John insisted, this time with a hint of lightness in his voice.

'You should know better than that.' Terence shot him a look. 'First I'm your friend, the man who raised you as his son after your father died...and as all that, I want you to be happy. I want you to love God too. And I don't want you to think that you have to decide between the woman you love and God. If you ever think that way then, you shouldn't follow this path. Those decisions should be made without second thoughts, as callings.'

'I didn't know then I would fall in love now,' John said, defeated, resting his head on his hands, his elbows on the desk. It all seemed too good and too bad at once. He was not a lucky man. He was never a man to whom love had been kind. Quite the opposite. How could he have imagined then, after all these years, that he would meet the love of his life?

'But falling in love aside, even before met your Anna, you still doubted,' the Bishop continued. 'You still thought so many things were wrong with this institution, with the people who run it. You still viewed some writings as ridiculous and preposterous. You've said so yourself.'

'I did.' John felt a bit guilty then, but he couldn't deny it. Not even now, today.

'If I were in charge I would make all this so much easier for everyone,' Terence nodded his head. 'Especially for men like you.'

'What do I do then?'

'You wait. Let the school year finish and then leave,' the old man advised. 'Wait, keep your position, both of you, then when the time's right, travel somewhere, get married, and don't forget to invite me.'

His hopeful words made John smile and feel optimistic too. Maybe they didn't have to make it so complicated. Maybe the waiting was the worst that was yet to come. Waiting to be together, to love each other with no boundaries, no secrets...yes, that was a lovely thought. To only wait, and then, the wait would over. They could do that. They certainly could; it wouldn't be easy, but they could.

Terence slapped his hands on the wooden arms of his chair. 'Time for tea! I'm hungry. Trains always famish me.'

'Let's go down then,' John stated, feeling a huge weight lift from his shoulders. 'Mrs Patmore will be delighted to have the Bishop taking tea in her kitchen, again.'

'I can find my way to the kitchen. Isn't there someone you want to share our conversation with, hmm?'

John smiled, 'Yes. Yes, I do.' And he went in search for Anna.

 **xxx**

'May I come in?'

The Bishop's voice travelled through an unusually quiet kitchen, taking the cook and her helpers by surprise. The three women were sitting at the big, wooden table, doing nothing but reading the day's news in the paper. The pots and pans were bubbling away on the stove, cooking the meals for the day. A moment of calm, before the mealtime storm.

'Goodness me, Ivy!' Mrs Patmore stood up at once, gesturing for the girl to take the newspaper from the table. Ivy did so, handing it to Sister Josephine who hid it behind her back. 'Your...your Grace…' the cook stammered. 'I thought you were only coming later in the day.'

'I was...but I decided to take you all by surprise.' The old man smiled cheekily. 'And I see I did.'

'Oh?' Ivy asked, eyeing the Bishop with nervously. 'To catch us in the act?'

'In the act?' the man questioned, glancing confusingly toward the cook.

'In the act of doing something not very...Catholic.'

'You silly girl!' the cook scolded, smacking Ivy on her back. 'I'm sorry, your Grace, Ivy doesn't know what she says half the time. Of course, we would never do anything that wasn't Catholic. Not in my kitchen, that's for sure!'

'No need to reprimand the girl, Mrs Patmore,' Terence chuckled. 'And I'm not one to look for someone to catch in the act, Miss Ivy.'

'Of course not,' Ivy shrugged her shoulders, quite embarrassed.

'What's more, I'm sure there's not a more Catholic kitchen in the whole England...and definitely not one run by such a lovely cook.'

Mrs Patmore blushed at the Bishop's words, feeling somewhat uncomfortable, but also proud of such compliment. Terence noticed her slight discomfort.

'I came down for tea. I've already spoken with Father John-.'

'Oh, he knows you're here then. However did you get in without us noticing?'

'Well...I have my ways, Mrs Patmore,' the Bishop winked, taking a seat at the table. 'May I?'

''Of course! If you don't mind sitting at the common table,' the cook joked.

'There's no one more common than I,' Terence replied with a smile. 'If this table is good enough for you three, it's good for me too.'

'Ivy! Get the water boiling,' the cook ordered in her usually fierce voice. 'I just baked cinnamon biscuits for tea, and I'm sure you're going to love 'em, your Grace.'

'Oh, I'm sure of that. In fact, I only found the kitchen because I followed the smell of your biscuits. Uh...Sister Josephine?'

'Yes, Your Grace.' The young nun was silent in one corner of the big room. The newspaper still in her hands behind her back.

'Can you give me the paper? I haven't read it yet today.'

'Oh, of course!'

 **xxx**

Since Mass, Anna had been busy in her classroom prepping for the first day of school. It was usually one of Anna's favourite days of the year. The excitement always ran high, but this year it was tinged with apprehension. For tonight, the Bishop would arrive, and Anna didn't feel she could relax until the future was resolved.

 **x**

'What do you mean you've talked to the Bishop already? I thought he wasn't arriving until tonight?'

'He came early,' John said, after closing and locking her classroom door behind him. He crossed the room to stand in front of her. 'And as unbelievable as this sounds,' he told her gently, 'he knew about us. Or at least he suspected.'

'He knew?' Anna's face blanched. 'How could he know when we didn't know ourselves, until recently?' _Oh, this can't be good!_ Anna thought, envisioning two careers, or in John's case, an actual _calling_ , lying in ruins all because she couldn't control her feelings for this good, good man. 'Oh, what have I done?'

'My darling, no, it's all right,' John told her as he stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and lowering her to her desk chair, kneeling before her. 'Everything will work out fine. Terence was not surprised by my wanting to leave. I think he'd been expecting it for years. I certainly hadn't hidden my...disenchantment from him. What he hadn't expected was me falling in love. Indeed, I hadn't either.' He caressed her cheek, causing her breath to hitch.

'But you said he knew.'

John smiled, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing the backs of them. 'When I said I had fallen in love, of course, he suspected it was you, for it could be no other.'

Anna found herself finally calming down a bit. 'But you said everything will work out fine. How do you know that? I need to know what he said, John.'

'I believe his exact words were, _there is nothing more Catholic than to get married and have a bunch of babies running around_.'

Anna gasped. 'He said that?!'

'I know. It shocked me too. Then he offered this bit of advice, _Wait, keep our positions, both of us, then when the time's right, leave, get married, and don't forget to invite him._ He suggested we finish out the school year. How would you feel about that?'

Anna considered his words. 'Yes. We should. In fact, I wish we didn't have to leave at all, but I know we do.' She looked deep into his eyes and found hope there. 'Is it really that easy?'

John chuckled. 'If you call waiting almost a year to be together easy, then I guess it is, as long as we keep a low profile and patiently bide our time.' He stood then, opening his arms wide to her. 'Now come here…'

She happily obliged.

 **xxx**

'Sit down with us, Miss Smith.' Terence tapped the chair next to his after John had called Anna to join them in his office later that evening. There were some things the Bishop wanted to know, to understand, to advice on. 'Port?'

'No, thank you,' Anna smiled, watching as Terence took a long sip of his drink.

'Just don't tell anyone,' the old man winked. 'But I do like my port after a good dinner.'

John chuckled at his friend's words, his eyes, though, were on Anna. On how beautiful she always presented herself; in her white flowery dress and her yellow hair held back at the sides with pearly combs.

'Not too much, though,' Terence continued. 'I can hold my liquor just fine. All right then, let's get to the point,' the Bishop clapped his hands together after resting the empty glass on the desk. 'I called you here, Anna, because I wanted you and John together so I could ask you a few things...have you talked yet?'

'We have, yes.' Anna nodded shyly. Not yet completely comfortable with discussing such things with the Bishop himself.

'We will do as you advised,' John remarked. 'Wait until the school year is over.'

'And then?'

'And then?' The priest shared an unsure look with his beloved. 'Well...'

'We don't really know yet,' Anna replied.

'I see…'

'I don't know if John- I mean, Father John, told you but I was offered a place in Cornwall.'

'Yes, he did, and I know the place.'

'Do you really?!' John asked, surprised.

'I do. Sir Britton is the owner. It's a grand, beautiful place. Mrs Britton was an orphan herself, and when she married him, into a wealthy family, they decided to open the old house in the rural area as an orphanage. It was the way she found to help those like herself. She was a good woman, kind, caring, the children loved her...unfortunately she died a couple of months ago, and Sir Britton is unsure of what to do. He's old and feels lonely without her; they were married for over fifty years! I heard he was thinking about selling, so he could go live with his son in America. It's all talking still, but it'll probably turn out that way.'

'I see…' John thought for a moment. 'And would they sell it as an Orphanage?'

'I reckon so,' Terence nodded. 'It was his wife's last wish that the place would always take in unwanted angels, as she used to say. It was a friend of mine who performed the ceremony.'

'That was so nice of her,' Anna smiled. 'It's good to know there are people who care about these children.'

'Yes,' the Bishop agreed. 'So, you have a whole school year to think about your next move. I ask you for discretion, which I know you will use. You're still a priest, the director of this place, and you are still under such task.'

'Of course, Terence,' John promised. 'We wouldn't have it any other way.'

'I know so…' the old man chuckled. 'And I'm sure Miss Smith wouldn't let you go astray. I reckon she has more reason than you do,' he concluded, playfully.

'I'm sure you're right,' John grinned, sharing a look with Anna.

And Terence was right. If only in his dreams...John was already losing all his discretion.

 **xxx**

'Hello.'

She was already smiling and waiting for him when he stepped outside into the garden. The night had fallen, everyone was now in bed, only the two of them awake, ready to finally enjoy this moment of theirs.

'Hello.'

'Out here all by yourself?' he teased, knowing too well she had been there waiting for him. 'It's a rather chilly night.' Cold, silent, still. Moonless. Only a smattering of stars could be seen playing peek-a-boo amongst the clouds.

'It is,' she nodded, biting her lower lip. 'And my throw is big enough for the two of us.'

Anna was sitting on the swing bench - her favourite spot to be - wrapped in a soft, knitted blanket her mother had made years ago. She invited him in, lifting one of the corners to make him welcome, and without a second thought, he joined her.

'Is the Bishop asleep already?'

'Oh, he is. His port always works fast,' John chuckled. 'I don't think there's a single soul awake inside.'

'That's good. Somehow, I always feel we're being watched. I know we aren't but, now more than ever, I fear that we are.'

'Of course,' he smiled, taking the hand she had resting on her leg in his. 'We have to be careful. I don't want anyone to have a word to point at you.'

'At me?' she looked over at him. 'And what about you?'

'I can manage that,' he told her softly. 'But I do want to do things properly. I don't want to be the cause of anyone thinking ill of you.'

'As if I would let you do otherwise.' She shot him a playful look, and he couldn't help but shake his head with a smile, before turning serious. He faced her then, taking both of her hands now. He meant business, and she knew it.

'Anna...I'm sorry I...we can't be together just yet. I wish I had met you as a free man, that I could offer you everything you deserve-.'

'Don't say that.' She brought one of her hands to his lips, caressing the warmth of his skin. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel sorry for anything. 'We wouldn't be here if everything was different.'

'I know but…' He grimaced, feeling guilty. 'I hate that you have to wait because of me.'

'Because of you?' She smiled, dropping her hands to his again. 'Neither of us asked for this. It happened, and if waiting is all we have to do, I'll take it gladly. I'd wait for you all my life, John. All my life.'

'I did just that.' He sighed contently, and she eyed him, confused. 'Waited for you all my life.'

His words made her love him even more, and slowly, she allowed herself to rest her head on his shoulder, taking in this moment that would be so rare for them. She felt him relax, giving her more room to be comfortable and she wondered for a moment if this was right. To be here with him, in love. He was still a priest, this was still unacceptable, but she found couldn't resist to this togetherness.

His thoughts were exactly the same, but the feeling of her was so much stronger than everything else.

For long minutes they remained in silence, taking in each other - almost as if recharging for those times they wouldn't be able to be together. For those times where they would have to appear distant. Somehow without saying a word, this moment felt safe, almost pure - although minds spoke louder, and that's where actions always began.

'And when will the Bishop leave?' Anna asked, sometime after. Sleep already creeping in; during their silence his arm had found its way around her.

'Tomorrow before the sun's up,' he replied, a yawn escaping him.

'Already? I thought he would stay.'

'He has a wedding on Tuesday, an old friend of his, and he doesn't want to disturb the first day of school for us.'

'I see. He's a wonderfully kind man,' Anna said. 'I understand why you love him so much.'

'He is.' John smiled tenderly at the memory of Terence. 'He's like a father. And he's also very fond of you.'

'Is he?' she asked him, feeling relieved for still being in the good graces of the Bishop.

'Oh, he is. Very fond.'

'That's nice to know,' she said with a smile. 'We should go in to bed now. It's getting late and tomorrow will be a big day for all of us.'

'You're right.' John took a deep breath. 'Although...I wish I could stay here with you all night.'

'Next year by this time,' Anna told him, standing from the swing, 'we can.'

'Wait…' Before she could take another step, he had reached for her arm, pulling her to him. For a second he doubted he had the right to ask, to even wish for...but at that second he also decided that, if not for him, she deserved more than just words. 'One kiss, to take with me?'

She nodded her answer, and with a racing heart she watched as he leant down to her; one hand on the back of her head, the other holding her at the side, over the fabric of her dress. Their lips finally met, softly, gently, slowly. Her hands now sure enough to rest on his chest, to feel how his heat and hers travelled from one to the other, as one single connection of energy. And that's what they were. One, connected forever, by heart, soul and a beautiful dream.

It didn't last long. The time wasn't right for big things just yet - this place and their condition agreed. When they broke apart, lightheaded, dreamy like, no more words were exchanged, and they walked to their quarters as if nothing had happened. Like the way they'd have to face all the moments they would share together until then. As if nothing at all had, was or would happen.

 **xxx**

Another day and an endless list of things to do. One might have thought that running an orphanage and school was easy, that once you got the hang of it, you were set. Father John found it a much different experience for this past couple of months.

The kitchen was always busy. Mrs Patmore's normal activity was to run from counter to counter, peeling, mixing, baking, boiling, shouting orders to Ivy and Sister Josephine; her spirit as fiery as her hair. This year would prove to be even more chaotic as the cook had reluctantly agreed to give Saturday afternoon cooking lessons in exchange for help in the kitchen herb garden and any other clean-up work she could come up with.

The teachers, now with the new school year, always had something to do besides teach. Classes to plan, texts to go over and correct, to come up with interesting games and new ways of exciting their pupils to learn. Then, the children themselves. Homework, classes, the fair amount of time to play and socialise with each other, and also to work on extracurricular activities. And of course, the Sisters, running after the little ones, giving the older ones their fair share of moral lessons and tending to minor wounds, colds, the usual bellyache.

And on top of all that was Father John, who had to catch up on everything. To organise, schedule and plan ahead. He still had to meet Mademoiselle La Roux, the art teacher and Helen Gary, the music teacher, both of whom had been gone since his arrival. Indeed it was a much bigger job than he had ever imagined, but somehow he found happiness in it.

'So…' he checked his _to do list_ , sitting at his desk in the early hours of the morning. Silence prevailed at the moment, with the children in their classrooms and the little toddlers outside in the garden to take advantage of this late summer day. 'Oh right!' He snapped his fingers. 'The play...we need to decide on the play.'

'Father?'

'Sister?' It was Sister Madeleine at the door. 'Please come in.'

'I just came to announce that Mr and Mrs LeClaire are here.'

'Who?'

The old nun rolled her eyes in exasperation. 'Alice's relatives. They are taking her today.'

'Oh! Of course. Tell them to come in.'

'And do I call the girl?'

'Yes, of course. She's not in class is she?'

'No.'

'So…' John scratched his head. 'Can you call Miss Smith too?'

'She's teaching.'

'I know but...You can keep an eye on her class, can't you? She's very fond of Alice; she'll want to say goodbye.'

'If you insist.'

'I do, Sister. Thank you.'

 **x**

'I know we should have come before the school started but we really didn't find the time for it,' Mr LeClaire, voiced almost apologetically. 'But we have a school for her already, and she'll start next week.'

The man was rather short, well built, with brown hair and thick brows. He had a full beard and wore a tailored suit and matching tie. The wife was the opposite of him. Tall, slim, reddish hair, dark, bright eyes. Her blue dress was fancy, complemented with a brown faux fur around her neck. Dramatic makeup, but overall a very distinct couple.

'That's not a problem, Mr LeClaire. I'm sure Alice will do very well in her new home, and school.'

'That's all that we hope for,' the man replied. His wife remained silent.

'She's a very shy girl, but with love and patience I'm sure she'll come out of her shell,' Father John added with a smile, and that seemed to soften up Mrs LeClaire's features.

'May we come in?' Anna stood at the door with little Alice by her hand.

'Of course, come in!' Father rose from his chair, followed by the couple, and gestured for the teacher and the child to enter.

'Oh, Alice!' Mr LeClaire reached for the girl at once, bringing her up in his arms and hugging her tight against his chest. 'My sweet Alice. You look so like your mother.'

'Alice is very close to Miss Smith,' the priest remarked, watching the woman approach her husband and the child with a smile on her face.

'And I thank you for all that you have done for her.' The man looked over to the teacher with tears in his eyes. 'We should have taken her right when...it happened. Sadly, we weren't able to manage that. But now we are, and we'll be a family.'

'I know she's in good hands,' Anna assured, already feeling sad for seeing the girl leave the Orphanage forever.

'We'll keep in touch,' the woman finally spoke. 'We'll write to tell you how she's doing.'

'Thank you, Mrs LeClaire. We do appreciate your gesture,' the priest said.

'Everything's ready for you to take her now,' Anna mentioned. 'All her belongings are in the entrance hall.'

'Thank you, once again, for all you've done. Say goodbye, Alice.' Mr LeClaire told the girl, never letting go of her.

'Goodbye,' the girl replied, her big, sad eyes on the teacher she loved so much.

'Goodbye, my sweet Alice. We'll never forget you,' Anna said, holding back her tears as she kissed the girl's cheek.

That would be the last time they would see Alice, but the letters and photos that would come every now and then would tell them how happy the girl was in her aunt and uncle's care.

 **xxx**

Friday had finally arrived and with it, the first week of school had come to an end.

The evening meal had been served and cleared away, and the Monthly Meeting was about to begin. One item on the agenda, this evening was the Whitby Harvest Festival which would be held in just two weeks time.

'But…' Sister Madeleine shook her head in exasperation for the millionth time. 'How can we take everyone?! Fifty some children at a fair? You can't be serious!'

'Please, please!' The children pleaded in unison, taking this opportunity to beg for all they were worth, knowing full well Father John would take their side.

'We've always dreamed of going. We can see it from the cliff, but it might as well be a million miles away.' Philip pursued his lips and crossed his arms at the old nun's words.

'I really can't deny them this, Sister,' Father insisted. 'The Whitby Harvest Festival is known throughout the country, and these Whitby children have never had the chance to go? I'm sorry, but that's changing.'

'Oh yes?' Sister rounded and faced him. 'And how do you propose to keep an eye on all of them? They'll be running all over the place, playing games and...eating food.'

'If that's the worst they find to do, I'll be grateful. But don't fret. We will certainly find a way,' the priest replied.

'May I share an idea?' Anna stood up from her chair, and Father immediately nodded her to go ahead. 'Mr Rivers and Alf can come too, Mrs Patmore and Ivy, and the O'Hara's. I know Molly is entering her boysenberry jam and Brian is showing sheep. They'll be there anyway. And we could also invite Father William, as a way to show him one of our grand Whitby spectacles.' She grinned toward the priest, and he couldn't help but answer her in the same way. 'All of us together can see after the children. Our boys and girls will behave really well and do everything we tell them to.'

'Yes!' the children cheered. 'We will!'

'Well, see now? That's a splendid idea!' Father John smiled, feeling extremely satisfied to see the children so happy and be able to make this dream of theirs come true. 'And that's what we'll do!'

'Yay!'

'So, the Festival is settled. We are all going, and we'll have fun and eat candy floss and play games, now…' Father continued, placing his readers on his nose and checking his list. 'What's next? Oh! The play! I have it on good authority that Sister,' he turned to face Sister Madeleine, 'has a hankering for one of Mr William Shakespeare's offerings.'

The old nun looked up at him, pleasantly surprised.

' _Romeo and Juliet_!' cried a couple of the girls, dreamily. This caused James to erupt in kissing noises, and from there it just went from bad to worse.

It took Father several minutes to get the room in order, during which time Sister had lowered her head into her hands, possibly praying for divine intervention, but not before Howie shouted out…

 _Knock, Knock._

 _Who's there?_

 _Shelly._

 _Shelly who?_

 _Shelly compare thee to a summer's day?_

Father John held both of his hands up. 'Very funny, but enough! I can see some of you want Shakespeare and others not as much, but nonetheless, Shakespeare it will be and I think I have the solution to make everyone happy.'

He stopped, making sure he had the attention of the room. 'I'm sure you all remember how much you enjoyed the film, _The Forbidden Planet_.'

'Yeah, that was so cool, Father!' called out Phillip and the other boys agreed. 'We really loved Robby the Robot.'

'And do you also remember I told you that it was based on Mr Shakespeare's play, _The Tempest_?'

'Oh, right! Maybe Old Shakespokes isn't so boring after all,' called out Louis. The other boys nodded their heads.

'Are you suggesting they perform _The Tempest_ , Father?' asked Sister Madeleine. It wasn't one of her favourite plays, but it was Shakespeare after all, and the children did show an interest.

'That's what I'm suggesting, Sister. Children? What do you think? Is it to be _The Tempest_?'

So it was agreed on, resoundingly. A round of applause filled the room - so loud, no one heard Teddy and Louis arguing over who would play the role of Robby the Robot.

 **xxx**

It was a beautiful Saturday morning for mid-September. Autumn was doing its best to impress. John was pacing the circular drive out front waiting for Anna to join him on a walk. Off in the distance, under the shade of a tree, the teenage boys appeared to be extremely engrossed in a magazine, passing it from one to the other. He fleetingly wondered what they were up to and smiled at the sight. _Oh to be young and carefree, your whole future ahead of you_. But then, his life wasn't so much different now, if he thought well about it. A new future was just unfolding before his eyes; plans were being set into motion.

'Now what?' The sight of the last person he wished to see shook his thoughts away. Gordon Manning appeared from around the back side of the orphanage bus, his cigarette dangling from his lip as he sized it up.

'Gordon?!' The priest called out as he approached the young man, with a questioning expression on his face. Gordon slowly blew smoke through his nose as he eyed John with disdain. 'I didn't know deliveries were made on Saturday.'

'They ain't,' Gordon replied. 'But not all the deliveries arrived on time so I had to bring the extras today.'

'I see…' Father John nodded, widening his stance and resting his hands on his hips.

'Gotta a new baby, I see.'

'A new baby? Oh! The bus, yes.'

'Kinda old, isn't she?'

'It works as good as new, and that's what matters.'

'Just gotta be careful not to drive it into a tree or somethin' with the kiddos inside. Keep an eye on your brakes.'

'Thank you for your concern. Of course, we'll be careful, and Mr Rivers is a conscientious mechanic. Don't you let that trouble you.'

'Yeah...I'm not.' Gordon spat, throwing the cigarette to the ground and mashing it with his foot. His eyes, though, were on the one who was slowly walking up to them and when John turned around to see what he was looking at, he saw Anna. 'There comes my girl.'

The priest rolled his eyes at Gordon's words.

'Hello, hello, sexy lady. Wanna have a word?'

'Gordon, please,' Anna shook her head, standing beside John. 'We have nothing to talk about.'

'Don't we?'

'No, we don't,' she told him. 'Let's go, Father?'

'Oh! You prefer collared blokes now, do you?'

'She prefers to be respected, Gordon.'

'All right, Padre,' Gordon brought his hands up, smirking in jest. 'I'll leave you to it.'

After Gordon had moved on, Anna groaned, 'Ugh...I wish we had someone else to deliver for us.'

'Me too...but he's gone now. Let's go for our walk; that is if the week hasn't worn you out. It's a lovely day.'

'I'm never too tired for a walk with you,' she smiled. 'The children were very good this first week. I just have to be back before tea. I need to grade a few papers for Monday.'

'Of course. I'll deliver you home right on time.'

She giggled, 'Oh look, here come the boys. They certainly seem in high spirits, don't they?'

'Morning, boys.'

The teacher and the priest smiled to the group of teens, but the reply was no more than a couple of Hi's and Hello's, hurried steps and lowered heads. John and Anna found it odd but didn't make much of it. Little did they know, behind James' back, hidden under his shirt, there was a magazine. A girlie magazine to be specific.

 **x**

'The boys were certainly acting strangely just now. I wonder what they're up to?' Anna voiced, shaking her head as the two walked past the old wooden gate that led to the Orphanage's farm.

'Don't know, but I didn't like Gordon nosing around the bus,' John sighed, looking ahead. The beautiful Autumn fields were burning with a golden light. The sun was weaker now as fluffy clouds moved in, but the day was still warm and the breeze still gentle enough to only caress their skin. He wore his black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and had only just now removed his collar and undone the first two buttons of his shirt. As for Anna, she had on a knee length violet dress with a matching ribbon holding her side braid.

'I don't like whenever he's nearby. Ever,' Anna concluded. 'Since we broke up he seems more...I don't know. Sometimes he frightens me.'

'Why so?' John asked, looking over to her. The urge to reach for her hand almost too strong to control.

'I don't know,' she sighed, stopping in her tracks, facing him. 'It seems that he's so full of...hate. He didn't use to be like that. Have I done that to him?'

'Don't think that way. People change,' he said, smiling, finally taking her hand in his; the other carried his walking stick. Maybe he should have left it at home. 'He won't hurt you. I won't let him.'

'I know,' she smiled, looking down at their joined hands. His hand so big, so protecting, enveloping hers as if it was a precious, delicate gift. His skin was always warm, setting hers on fire. This tiny bit of connection promised the world. This little act of togetherness spoke volumes. Spoke and felt of their future.

'New lipstick?'

His voice made her face him again, confused, questioning. _Lipstick?_ 'What?'

'New lipstick,' he repeated with a cheeky grin.

Anna touched her lips, remembering the lipstick she had applied just before coming out. 'Not new…I just haven't worn it in a long time,' she smiled shyly, lowering her eyes again.

'It's new to me,' he murmured, lifting her chin with his index finger. Her blue eyes were as bright as he had ever seen them.

'Do you like it?' she asked, biting her lips in an oblivious but seducing manner. She was indeed tempting. _Oh, this wait would not be an easy one._

'I do,' John replied, taking a deep breath. 'You wear everything with such grace.'

His words made her laugh, and it took her a moment to face him seriously again, shooting him a look. 'Are you always such a flirt, Father John?'

'l never was,' he chuckled, 'but I am now.'

* * *

 _ **Next chapter:** A day at the Harvest Festival - but will it all be fun and games and candy floss?_

 ** _Thank you for reading :)_**


	13. Chapter 12

_**A/N:** Good evening everyone! I hope the wait wasn't too despairing ;) we're back with another chapter and this one is long! Maybe you can find some solace in it (for the lack of updates) and make it last because at the rate things are going we aren't sure how often we can update. We were trying to do it every other week but sometimes time just isn't enough for us to do everything we want to do. We just ask you to be patient and hang in there with us. Your support is so important and we want to make sure we tell this story right._

 _But all we want now, is that you enjoy this one chapter :) let us know what you think! Things are moving forward. John and Anna are trying so hard to hold themselves back, and the Festival promises a good deal of romance, fun and even some bickering. Thank you all!_

 ** _Terrie & Handy _xxx **

**_Disclaimer:_** _Same as chapter 1-11._

 ** _PS: T rated now_**

* * *

 _ **Blessed ~**_ _Chapter 12_

 **x**

 _I'll see you in my dreams..._

 **x**

The chilly mid-October breeze swirled around Anna's stockinged legs and blew up her skirt as she stood in the circle of John's arms. She shivered. And when he whispered in her ear, she shivered again. 'Are you cold?'

'No,' she fibbed, not wanting their time to end. 'When you whispered in my ear it tickled, is all.'

'You know, Miss Smith, I think we should find a warmer place than the kitchen garden to say our goodnights. What do you think?'

Anna hesitated.

'Admit it, you're chilly, and what you need now is a long hot soak in the tub. Tell me that wouldn't feel good?'

Anna nodded, agreeing with him. 'You're right; it would feel very good. It's just that we have so little time to be alone. Even less than we did before. We don't even go for our walks much anymore. I miss having you all to myself, John.'

'I know, my darling, but maybe that's a good thing for now. The safe thing. We need to be careful. This isn't easy for me either; you have no idea.'

Anna saw the truth in his words and sighed, 'I know you're right. I'm sorry I'm making it more difficult for us.' She dropped her head to rest it on his chest.

'It's not forever,' he murmured, lifting her head, so she was looking at him. 'Now, do you think it would be alright if I kissed you, please?'

Anna closed her eyes, and John pulled her in for one perfect goodnight kiss. Then he walked her to the back door saying, 'Let's get you inside. Your bath awaits.'

'Aren't you coming?'

'I will, in a few minutes.'

He was standing there, watching her walk away when she looked back over her shoulder, winked and blew him a kiss.

 **x**

 _John watched himself rise from his bed and mount the central staircase. He stopped in front of Anna's bedroom door and stood there listening to the sound of water splashing, and a woman humming a sweet, seductive tune._

 _Then he was slowly pushing open the bathroom door._

' _Come in, my love. I've been waiting,' Anna called, sitting in a tub full of pink bubbles. She winked at him and when she held out her hand bubbles dropped to the tiled floor._

 _He stared as if in a trance, watching the bubbles pop...pop...pop...then turned over in his bed hugging his pillow close to him, a contented smile on his lips._

 **x**

John awoke with a start, ashamed to find his hand in his shorts. Sweat gathered on his brow, and a feeling of remorse began to creep over him, once again. But still, he couldn't stop until he had achieved his blessed release.

He took a deep breath then, trying to sit up - his long legs tangled in the sheets, the blanket fell to the floor. He could have sworn he smelled her on every inch of himself. Her touches had been so real. The feel of her hair against his chest, his face...her lips, her bold hands, wandering his body as his had hers. In the smouldering darkness of his fevered dream he had seen the light in her eyes, the flame of her want, mirroring his own.

These dreams were happening with greater frequency and even in the privacy of his little room they felt rather awkward.

He thought nights like these had been left behind many years ago when he was young and free to dream and to desire. But he was powerless to resist. She awoke in his senses such powerful feelings; some he didn't even know existed until recently. How could he face her after such a passionate night, even if only in his dreams?

 **xxx**

'G'morning, ladies.' Father John walked into the kitchen around six-thirty, much earlier than he generally did. The hustle and bustle of Mrs Patmore's work and helpers, already going strong.

'What's up with you two?' Mrs Patmore asked as she stood before one of the counters, her head jerking toward the big wooden table in the middle of the room to make her point. 'If I had the chance to sleep in, believe you me, I'd take it.'

'Why do you say - Oh! Anna, I didn't see you there.'

'Good morning, Father,' Anna said with that smile that set his heart racing. He had not been prepared to face her quite so soon after...well after his dream, and its aftermath this morning.

She sat at the table, a mug of steamy tea in her hands, still wearing her faded pink chenille robe, indicating to him she must have snuck down the back kitchen stairs. Her soft hair was in a single loose, messy plait. If he'd had to describe her he would say she looked 'slept in', and the very thought caused his heart to skip a beat.

'Anna,' he said, wetting his lips with his tongue and swallowing hard. _Could she read his thoughts about her? With her? Of her? What he wanted, what he dreamed about?_ The time, and in particular, the place and his condition made it all the worse.

'Coffee?' Sister Josephine asked, interrupting his thinking. 'Or do you join Anna for tea?'

'Yes…please,' he replied.

'Yes, for what?' The young nun eyed the priest, puzzled.

'Oh! For coffee...please,' Father nodded, masking his embarrassment with a cough and gathering his courage to sit down next to Anna. He hesitated. The table was big, and there were plenty of other chairs, but he really needed to be near her. She was looking up at him just now, expectantly. He slowly pulled out the chair and took a seat.

'Did you have a good night?' Anna asked as he sat down. It didn't escape her attention that he was behaving strangely. Maybe he didn't sleep well, she thought. But the reason was quite the opposite. He had slept very well, too well.

'I did,' John answered, losing himself in her eyes, thinking back on his dreams again. Her eyes, so hypnotising, so sure. Filled with light and deep love. Filled with everything he wished to see in them. One year of waiting...could he do it? If his recent dreams were telling him anything, the answer was no. 'Very good. What about you?'

'Hmmm...' She looked down at her now empty mug of tea. 'I spent the night dreaming about the festival.'

He took a deep breath at her reply.

'Oh, did you now?!' the cook said, checking on the pie she had in the oven. 'And was it a good dream? Did you dream I won the pie contest? You better say I did!'

'What contest?' the priest asked.

'Only the most important of contests in the whole festival!' Ivy answered while stirring the batter for a cake; it would be their dessert for lunch. 'Best pie in the village!'

'The winner gets a free subscription to ' _Table And Tradition_ ' magazine.' The young nun added while the cook beamed with excitement.

Mrs Patmore said, 'And 20% off at Mr Bale's store once a month on any groceries you buy!'

'My, my…' Father John smiled. 'That does sound exciting and quite an honour too.'

'It's a shame the pie isn't puffing up as it should.' Ivy frowned. 'A real shame…'

'Shut that evil mouth of yours, you silly girl!' Mrs Patmore warned. 'You're jinxing my pie already!'

'But it's not-.'

'Don't you dare…' The cook held her rolling pin high above her head, threatening the girl. Anna and John couldn't help but chuckle at the scene playing out before them.

Soon enough, Mrs Patmore regained her composure, and without losing a beat, she turned to Anna to re-ask her question. 'So...did I win or not? In your dream?'

'Oh!' Anna laughed, 'You weren't there, I don't think. I only dreamt that we were all waiting for our turns at the throwing stall and when I got to play I threw the balls everywhere and one landed on Sister Madeleine's head. It was quite a stressful dream.' She scratched her forehead trying to understand why she would even dream of such a thing.

'That sounds more like a nightmare!' John snickered.

'Well...if I wasn't there it's certainly because I was off winning the contest,' the feisty cook concluded. 'Now, that bloody- Oh!' She stopped herself, remembering Father John was present. ' I mean...Ivy's right, the pie isn't rising at it should...thank God I started this the day before! Now, Sister! Get me the flour and the sugar, and mix that cake batter with fervour, Ivy! That ain't no pussy cat for you to be petting all soft-like.''

In all this commotion, John found himself relaxing and he dared a glance at Anna who was watching the cook and her helpers doing their job. One year...he was sure he wouldn't survive the wait, but he was certain he would be the happiest man alive if he did.

 **xxx**

Not long after, Father John climbed the stairs to the older boys quarters to present them with their copies of the school play. As he had promised two weeks ago, he had sorted the parts for each boy and was now ready for them to read it. He only hoped they wouldn't notice Robby The Robot didn't make an appearance.

' _Look at this one…_ ' The priest heard the boys whispering as he approached their slightly open door, daring a silent peek inside their room. The lads were all together on one of the beds. Some laying on their stomachs, others sitting and leaning forward, interested in something they were reading - or so it seemed to Father. With every turn of the page, they would snicker and even gasp. What kind of book was that?

'Whoa, I like this one better,' James pointed out. 'Look, Teddy!'

'I shouldn't...after all; I want to be a-.'

'Hello, boys!' Father John knocked on the door before entering, and to his surprise the teens went silent, a look of desperation appeared on their reddening faces. They hid the item they'd been so interested in behind Philip's back. 'What's going on?'

'Uh...uh...nothin',' the older boy stammered. 'We were just...chatting.'

'About the play!' Louis cried out, knowing full well they couldn't fool Father John so easily. The other boys looked at him in disbelief. What a stupid excuse, Louis!

'About the play?' Father questioned, eyeing them with suspicion. 'Are you sure about that?'

Busted! The boys had the good grace to look down in shame. Father John didn't deserve to be lied to.

'We're sorry, Father.' Philip was the one to speak.

'Sorry? Well, about your lie or the reason you had to lie?' the priest asked.

'Both.' The boy took a deep breath before showing Father the item they were reading or better said, looking at. 'We found it on the path...we shouldn't have brought it in.'

Father John took the item in his hand, realising what it was a 'girlie' magazine. He shook his head softly and the corner of his mouth lifted. What teenager lad could resist? He thought.

'Boys…' he dragged a chair from one of the desks then, and sat down, facing the boys.

'It's all right, Father,' Teddy spoke up. 'We'll take any punishment you want to give us. We deserve it, but just so you know, I didn't look at it even once.'

'You liar!' said Philip. 'You pretended not to look at it, but you did!'

'I did not!'

'Hold on. I'm not punishing anyone.' Father held up his hand interrupting their argument. 'And you don't need to get mad at each other.'

'You're not, Father?'

'Listen. Indeed you shouldn't have brought this magazine inside, but it's not the end of the world. This is not to say you are right about looking at...these things, but I understand why you did. I was your age, many years ago, and what you feel now I felt too.'

'You did?'

'I did.' John smiled. 'Listen, if you ever want to ask anything, or speak about anything, I'm all ears. Anything at all. It doesn't matter if you feel strange about it, or awkward, you can still talk to me. I won't judge you; I won't punish you. I'll just listen and answer your questions if I can. All right?'

'Well...I have a question then,' said James.

'What's that?' Father John asked with some trepidation. He wasn't ready for a quiz about... _it_ just yet. Oh God.

'Do girls like chocolate or flowers are better?'

The priest laughed. 'Well...that's something you never really know. Women are all different, some like chocolate, others like flowers, most like both.'

'I thought all women were the same.'

'Nonsense, son,' John rose from the chair. 'Now, here is the play for you to read. Read it well, all right? And then tell me what you think about it and if you like your parts I've assigned you. Oh, and James? I think Pamela would be very impressed if you won her a prize at the Festival, more than flowers and chocolate.'

'Oh, yes! That's a grand idea!'

'I'll just take this and get rid of it,' Father said, folding the tempting magazine and shoving it under his arm. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sad expressions on the boys' faces as he turned to leave the room.

'Uh...Father?' Teddy called after him. 'I don't see no Robby The Robot in here…'

 **xxx**

The children all but burst through the doors of the little chapel the moment Father John released them. Sister Madeleine shook her head in annoyance as she rose from the pew nearly forgetting her newly acquired cane and followed everyone out into the sunlight.

Today was the first day of the Yorkshire County Harvest Festival to be held on the outskirts of Whitby. It was a lovely, crisp Autumn day. The sun was high in the sky and laughter filled the air.

John was the last to come down the chapel steps and out onto the bright green lawn. 'Listen up! It's time we get this show on the road. Go to your rooms and change out of your Sunday best and that includes your dress shoes. Hard telling what we'll have to trudge through today,' he added with a laugh. 'And bring a jacket too, we'll like as not be getting back long after dark. Now, let's go. We'll meet back at the bus.'

 **x**

Children, teachers and nuns alike were lined up alongside the big school bus when John came out the door, locking it behind him. Mr Rivers stood at the front of the bus, his hand shading his eyes. He was looking down the lane and jumped when John put a hand on his shoulder asking what he was looking at.

'Nuthin', I reckon. I thought I saw a flash running off down the lane. Probably my eyes playin' tricks on me is all. Ready to get this show on the road, Father?'

'That I am, Mr Rivers, that I am,' John said genially, pausing to glance back over his shoulder, down the lane.

 **x**

'Dibs on the back of the bus!' the teen boys yelled in unison, scrambling to the front of the line.

'Hey! Watch it there!' complained Karen when Louis jostled into her.

Sister Mary Anne came up behind Louis and grabbed him by the ear until Father took matters in hand. 'Slow down there, son. Tell the girls you're sorry and hop in. I'll be sitting with you, so save me a seat.'

Next came most of the teachers, followed by the teen girls. Then the younger children and finally the nuns along with three toddlers. Sister Madeleine took a seat at the front of the bus, directly behind Mr Rivers. She wanted to be close enough to shout out directions to the old driver.

The last to board was Father John, carrying little Liam and Anna, holding Rosie firmly by the hand. It was not lost on Pam that Father led Miss Smith and Rosie to the back of the bus with his hand planted firmly on her back and took his place next to them.

Mrs P and Ivy would be following in the truck, her precious pie cradled on her lap. 'Alf, now no driving like a maniac, you hear me? You won't eat for a week if you make me drop my pie.'

And they were off.

 **xxx**

'I want you all to wait here while I run and buy the tickets for rides and events. I mean it, don't go wandering off on your own. You older boys will go with Father William when he gets here. You girls stick with Miss Moorsum. Middle-grade children, the nuns will watch over you, and Miss Smith will help Sister Mary Rose with the toddlers,' Father instructed.

'Hello!' came a friendly voice from across the car park. Everyone turned to see Father William loping toward them, a huge smile on his face. He looked as excited to be there as the children.

'Father William is here today to help us to keep order, so you will obey him just as you would me. Is that clear?' Father John spoke, and the children nodded it was.

'All right then. I'll buy the tickets, and we'll set out.'

 **x**

'Well, it's decided,' Jane remarked. 'Father John is truly the best thing that has ever happened to us.'

'I thought you had that pretty much settled since you first laid eyes on him,' Anna giggled. Her friend was always making up new reasons to praise the priest.

'True, but he surprises me every time. He just never disappoints, does he?''

'No, he never does,' Anna agreed with a smile. 'We needed someone like him. He breathed new life into the orphanage. I think even Sister Madeleine is coming around...slowly. Everyone's just so much happier.'

'Including you,' Jane gave her friend a sideways glance. 'I mean you broke up with that gorgeous boyfriend of yours and you're still smiling.'

'I'm better off without him. That's why.'

'And Father John has been helping you cope, hm?'

'What do you mean?' Anna's heart stopped for a second. _Had they been so obvious? Did Jane suspect anything?_ _Oh God._

'Well, you're always by his side…'

'Oh!' She could finally breathe again. 'Yes, well, I search him out for advice, that's all. He's a good listener.'

'Oh I know he is,' Jane nodded. 'And a good friend.'

'Yes, a good friend too.'

 **x**

Pamela's ears had perked up when she overheard her teacher's conversation. A hopeless romantic, the teen was convinced the handsome priest and the kind, beautiful teacher were in the throes of a hopeless and forbidden romance. Romeo and Juliet, Cathy and Heathcliff, Tristan and Isolde and now Father John and Miss Smith. Ah, it was breaking her heart in the most delicious way!

'Didn't I tell you?' The girl whispered to her friends, her face the picture of joy.

'Tell us what?' Cynthia asked.

'Well...Miss Smith is _really_ fond of Father John.'

'Who isn't?' Julia placed her hand over her heart, sighing dramatically.

'Father John is her...wonderful friend,' Cynthia told her.

'Friend. Pffft.' Karen rolled her eyes, knowing too well what her friend meant.

'Yeah, but, I think there's more to it,' Pam insisted, pressing her lips together in deep thought.

'Don't talk nonsense, Pam!' Cynthia warned. 'That sort of gossip could cause trouble, for both Miss Smith and Father John.'

'Yeah,' Karen agreed. 'Don't even dare to think about it!'

'But how can you not?' Pam wailed. 'They look so perfect together, and the fact that it's so forbidden makes it even more romantic. Don't tell me you haven't seen the way they look at each other. Just don't.'

'Well that's true,' Julia nodded. 'And they always seem to be together.'

'They're friends! Didn't you say Father John is a wonderful friend? That's it then, only friends. And friends spend time together,' Cynthia reasoned, adding, 'Who's brave enough to ride the Ferris Wheel with me?', trying to make the girls forget about the whole matter. That was not to be, though, and deep inside she thought the same.

'If only priests could marry, just like...what're they called? Pastors?'

'Yes, pastors, Pam. Pastors.'

'Well, I wish priests could marry like pastors. How unfair, isn't it? Just because you love Christ, doesn't mean you can't love a woman too.'

'Something about a priest can't spend his time on mundane nonsense,' Karen guessed. 'He has to be devoted to his congregation and the church.'

'Pastors are devoted too, aren't they?' Pam concluded.

'All I know is, it would be so sweet if they could get married. Imagine, Miss Smith and Father John getting married and having a bunch of babies. Babies that we then could help with! Just like we do with the little ones sometimes,' Julia gushed.

The girls all sighed in agreement, before Cynthia regained her composure, warning the others one last time.

'But don't even think about it! It's trouble; I tell you. Trouble.'

'That's true,' said Karen. 'If all those plans of a happy Father John family of yours reached the Holy Church around two hundred years ago they would both burn at the stake. Just so know you!'

'Oh, lighten up, Karen!'

'I'm just saying. Cynthia is right. It's trouble to even think about it. As cute as they look together...it could cost them too much.'

'Hello, girls.'

Father John's voice made them jump, and immediately they went silent and serious, as if caught in one of the worse acts of their lives. Father William was there too; the two men had been catching up at the end of the line.

'Making plans for how to spend your day at the Festival?' Father John asked, noticing their nervous expressions. He would never understand these girls.

'I'm sure you will be trying some of the rides,' Father William offered.

'Yeah...yeah,' Cynthia stammered, eyeing her friends for support. 'That's exactly what we were doing.'

Everyone nodded.

'Good, good…well...have fun.' Father John smiled, giving up and walking ahead in the teacher's direction.

' _Mind if we join you, ladies?'_ the girls overheard him say.

' _Mind if we join you, ladies?'_ , but he only looks at Miss Smith…' Pamela whispered with a cheeky grin.

'Stop it! Just stop, Pam!'

 **xxx**

'Peas, peas, peas!'

Rosie begged, her arms stretched high, her head back, looking up at her precious Father John. 'Peas!'

The priest couldn't help but chuckle. 'Don't you think you are too big to be carried around all the time, Peanut?'

'No, I'm not! I'm lil'...I'm a lil' kid, Faver.'

John felt certain little Rosie would begin climbing his leg in the next moment had he not relented. 'Oh come here, you. You're very good at begging, do you know that?'

She was indeed good at begging, but on the other hand, Father John was not good at saying no to her. In his arms, Rosie was happy as she could be, holding him tightly by the neck and resting her head on his broad shoulder. From there she could see everything, hear everything, and his smell was the most comforting thing the little girl had ever experienced. It was fatherly, protective. She'd never grow tired of it. He was her Faver, and no one would ever tell her different.

The children, now organised in little groups, were spread all over the Festival grounds being watched over by an adult or two - even some villagers had offered their help. The happiness on their faces was worth more than the priest could have imagined. Not for the first time he was glad he hadn't heeded Sister Madeleine's advice. And speaking of the 'old crow of doom' as Mrs P often addressed the head nun, Father John saw her coming in his direction, punctuating the air with her walking stick. His first thought was she was getting ready to use it on him.

'You're spoiling her.' She shook her head, standing before them. 'She will never be adopted like that. People will see how spoiled she is and she'll be returned.'

'Carrying a child is not spoiling them. But even if it was, children should be spoiled, especially these children. They need all the love and spoiling we can give them.' Father told her. 'If people who want to adopt children don't spoil them just a little then it's not worth adopting at all.'

'Do you hear what you're saying? If I didn't know better, I would think you are planning on adopting her yourself!'

'I would if I could.'

'Well, you can't.'

'In a way…' Father added, 'we're her parents now, aren't we?'

'We are not, Father. We are her keepers. And if you keep this up you'll be the one suffering the most when she has to go.'

She looked deep into his eyes and then left. What did she expect from him? How could he be surrounded by them and not love them? His heart wasn't made of stone. How could he not dry their tears or laugh with them? Or hold them close? John shook his head. Maybe Sister was right. Maybe he wasn't doing them any favours in the long run.

'Rosie won't go,' the little girl said - as soon as Sister was out of sight. 'Rosie stay with Faver John.' She placed her hands, sticky from candy floss, on either side of his of his face and melted his heart.

'As much as it's wrong for me to wish it…' he sighed with a smile, 'Father John doesn't want Rosie to go either.'

'Rosie stays, Faver,' the girl giggled, patting his cheeks gently. 'Rosie stays.'

'Oh! What's this?' Father asked as he felt his trousers being pulled. He looked down to see another one of his dear children. 'Hello there, Liam.'

'Up, up!' the boy demanded, holding his little arms up.

'No Liam!' Rosie spoke from the heights of Father John's arms. 'Faver is Rosie's. No!'

'Now, Rosie, don't be like that. You need to share, all right?' the priest told the girl, and she nodded rather petulantly.

'Uh huh…'

'Up! Up!' Liam insisted.

'Well, come here, son.' With practised ease, he held the girl in one arm and lifted Liam up in the other. The two children were facing each other; Rosie wasn't very happy to be sharing.

'Good I left my cane at home...' the priest said, walking to the carousel.

 **x**

'Ugh...he's so good with children,' Jane sighed, leaning against Anna and feigning a dramatic swoon. 'How more perfect can he be? I mean...look at him!'

Anna rolled her eyes at her friend's words. Oh, she knew how perfect he was, and that only made Jane's constant gushing over him quite awkward. When she found out about the two of them...oh Lord!

'Remind me again, are you sure priests can't marry?' Jane continued, pulling Anna to a nearby candy apple cart. 'Really, really sure? Because a man like that is a waste. The chastity rule is the worse thing the church has ever come up with...one, please. How much?'

'Some men are called to chastity, Jane.'

'Yeah, but look!' Jane pointed out after paying for her treat. 'It should be illegal for charming, handsome, tall men to be chaste. Illegal. Although, I'm sure our Father John had a wild youth. Want a bite?'

'No, thanks. But, why do you say that?' Anna asked, curious.

'How can I not say that? Imagine him younger, dressed in an open-necked shirt, his hair longer. Gah! Just picture it, Anna.'

'I quite like the way he is now.' Anna smiled to herself, watching him in the distance, trying to manage two very active little ones not wanting to be put on the ground; after all, they could see so much better from Father's arms. 'More mature...experienced.'

'Wait! What?' Jane gasped, stopping her friend. 'What did you say?'

'Nevermind, Jane!' Anna shook her head. 'You always make me say too much.'

'Oh Anna, I knew you hadn't gone cold for the pleasures of life! Even if Father John is a pleasure you have to admire from afar. Sad, but at least your eyes get a good wash.'

Anna couldn't help grin. 'You're too silly, Jane, but I love you.'

'And now I know you agree with me.'

 **xxx**

Not long after, Anna found herself relieved of duty. The five toddlers were becoming restless and had been put in makeshift cots in the bus for their naps. She was walking out of the 'Jams & Spreads' tent when she spotted John sitting on a bench by himself, tired looking and wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. The scene made her giggle, for she already knew the reason behind his exhaustion. Dear Peanut and her love of Father John's piggyback rides.

'Are you all right?' She sat down next to him a moment later. Children were running here and there, long lines of people were gathering around the games and rides and stalls. Across the way she saw Sister Madeleine and Mrs P, both fanning themselves with paper fans passed out courtesy of the Wake & Paine Funeral Home.

'I am. Just resting a bit…' he replied, taking a deep breath. 'I've been carrying Rosie around. She's a very demanding little girl.'

'She is indeed, but only with those she knows she can wrap around her finger.'

'Not you too,' John chuckled with a nod, knowing too well he had been the one spoiling little Rosie to the point of no return; not that he would have it any other way.

'Does she remind you of your son?'

Anna's question caught him unaware. It took him a moment to answer, to find the right words.

'I suppose…in a way. I never had the chance to...to be a good father to him. Maybe that's why I feel the need to be the way I am with her. All the children really.'

'I'm sure you were a wonderful father,' she said, trying to make him feel a little better and pushing away the urge to take his hand in hers. It was so difficult to keep her distance; it was getting harder every day as if the passing time only made the end of the school year seem further.

'But you see, I wasn't.' He sighed, lowering his head in shame. 'It's awful of me to say it, but the truth is, when a father doesn't love his child's mother, truly, it feels like the child is not fully loved either. It's no excuse, I know, but I was so young. I'm not sure I knew how to be a father. Sometimes, children are seen as nothing but a burden, as the reason why a marriage had to happen.'

'I don't believe you saw your son as a burden.'

'You're right; David was never a burden.' John faced her then, managing a small smile; the memory of his son still so strong as if he had been holding the baby in his arms only a moment ago. 'My son was...everything to me but, because of my relationship with his mother, or rather, the lack of it, I wasn't the father he deserved. I wasn't always there, I wasn't always patient, I wasn't always soft spoken. Whenever we were together, Vera and I, we would be fighting, and that's the side of me he knew better.' That thought broke his heart. His son's frightened expression to loud and angry words appeared before his eyes. It was painful, still so painful. 'The loud, nasty side of me. I would watch him sleep sometimes, and then, I was able to love him fully, to admire him, to be silent and just be in that moment with him, but he never knew that.'

'He knew,' Anna assured him, daring a gentle touch on his shoulder. 'He knew you loved him above all else. I'm sure of that.'

'I like to think he did, somehow, a sixth sense, perhaps...that soothes my soul. Maybe I think that so I can have a bit of peace.'

'Maybe you think that because you know it to be true.'

He faced her again, a smile on his lips. She was always able to cheer him up, to make it all seem so much better than what it truly was. That was Anna for him, a candle in the darkness. His salvation after a stormy life.

'I'm going to win a doll for you,' he spoke at last, standing from the bench and heading toward one of the stalls.

'What?'

'Those dolls?' John pointed out as she followed behind him. 'I'm going to win one for you. I already did for Rosie...I need to win one for you too,' he whispered when she caught up to him. 'A doll for each of my girls.'

'Two pence, Father. Good luck!' The man behind the counter leaned forward in respectable manner, hoping the priest would lose this round; it wasn't his lucky day.

'Here you go. Your doll, Miss.'

'It's lovely,' Anna smiled taking the cheaply made doll in her hands and already planning to place it on her nightstand.

'It looks like you…' John noticed, pinching its straw-like hair. 'Yellow hair and rosy cheeks.'

'And a polka dot dress,' Anna added.

'Exactly! I only wish I could give you more than just a two pence doll,' he confessed as they walked away from the crowd.

'But you do. Everyday. And you will more when the time comes,' she told him, her eyes still on her prize, admiring the little details and the neat stitches around the edges.

'You're patient, Anna Smith,' John chuckled. 'That's a very good trait, you know.'

'No matter how eagerly you wish for it, the world will still go one day at the time…or that's what my mother used to say.'

'I see you got your wisdom from your mother then.'

'Only her sayings,' Anna grinned, oblivious to the endless ways she was able to tease him; this time it was how softly she drew a few strands of loose hair behind her ear. 'That I pretend to follow accordingly. Unfortunately, the end of this school term seems a million years away; it already keeps me awake at night.'

Her reply pleased him, and without a second thought, he dared a question. 'Thinking about us, I hope.' Only after he spoke, he realised what more his words could mean. They could mean the exact same reasons his nights had been wonderfully restless. Could he even dare to hope for so much, was it even right?

'Yes…' She nodded surely, smiling and locking her eyes with his; it made him nervous, simply because he wasn't ready for such sincerity. He wasn't ready for such self-control. 'Thinking about us, of course.'

 **xxx**

It wasn't the first time Father John saw Gordon eyeing Anna from afar, and it was making him grow uneasy. There was a threatening feeling whenever the young man was around, as if, deep in his thoughts, he planned something against her, against them. The way he grinned when he caught his eye only added to this suspicion.

'The children are over the moon! They'll never calm down enough to sleep tonight.' Anna's voice shook John from his thoughts, as she approached him.

'And you are too, aren't you,' he concluded, smiling at her, and leaning forward; something he often did when she neared.

'Oh yes! I've always loved the Festival. When I was little, mum and dad used to take me for a pony ride. It was my favourite time of the year. Still is, I think. It's just...everything's so festive and happy.' She sighed dreamily, swirling around, allowing her polka dot dress to float about her, as if she was no more than a carefree teenage girl. John found it too endearing.

He laughed softly when she stopped. 'If you swirl once more I'll dare to say you are the one spreading all this festivity. You and your friend Jane, over there.'

'Oh, dear Jane.' They looked to where the other teacher was standing, engaged in a very energetic chat with two young men near her age. 'She can't help but have a chat with the lads. You know her,' Anna said.

'I do, and I'm trying to understand how she is still single. I mean, not that that's bad, but she seems so determined to find a man.''

'What she's determined to do is have a good time, and those are not very priestly thoughts you're having there, Father. Does the Vatican know you think single ladies having fun is a good thing?'

'Well, Miss Smith, as you may know, I'm not a traditional priest. I mean, don't you know about my plans for the coming year?' he replied, eyeing her playfully. 'I don't think the Vatican would approve of that either.'

'No...certainly not.' Anna lowered her gaze to the ground. Something in her voice worried him.

'Did I say something wrong?'

'Of course, you didn't.' She shook her head, before whispering, 'You just reminded me that, well…that you will be leaving your calling because of-.'

'Nonsense, Anna.' John stopped her from continuing, stepping closer, making sure they couldn't be heard. 'Being a priest was never my calling. I forced myself into it; I already told you that. Terence told me that! It was silly of me thinking I could fool myself. I never thought life would ever be kind to me. If I knew this opportunity would arise in the future, I would have waited for you. But then I would never have met you,' he told her softly, holding back the need to touch her reassuringly. Instead, he smiled tenderly at her. 'Please, don't feel bad. Your love is my life's breath.'

Just then John felt a strong smack on his back, nearly knocking him into Anna. Before he could react he heard a mocking voice saying, 'Ready for a challenge, Padre?'

'Good God, Gordon! You made us jump!' Anna yelled, bringing one hand to her chest, her mood spoiled by the sight of her ex-boyfriend. She had noticed his glances earlier in the day, and she wasn't at all pleased by it.

'Yeah, that was my intention.' Gordon laughed in a sneering manner. 'So Padre, the challenge? Yes or yes?' the young man insisted.

'Excuse me?' John turned to face him then, disguising the annoyance in his face with a grin.

'A challenge!'

'I'm sorry Gordon but-.'

'Oh come on, don't be a bore, Holy Father.' Gordon smacked the priest's shoulder one more time, using more than enough strength than necessary. 'Let's have a go at the High Striker. What do you say? Are you man enough?'

He followed Gordon's gaze to see young men lined up trying to ring the bell. 'That's not my kind of game, and I'm not the Holy Father, Gordon,' John told him in a somewhat a scolding manner. 'Far from it.'

'It's just a way of talking, relax!' Gordon brought his hands up in surrender, only to take his stored cigarette from behind his ear. 'And you know, there's always a big crowd of ladies around that game, for obvious reasons.' He placed the fag between his lips and lit it, huffing a big cloud of smoke toward the other two; that made Anna cough. 'Chicks dig strong blokes, don't they Anna? And, Father John, I know you fancy being surrounded by ladies...'

'I'm afraid I'm not following.' Father eyed the man, daring him to speak further. Gordon took that as a cue to hold his tongue.

'Well, your staff is all women,' the young man replied. 'Apart from one or two blokes. You're always surrounded by them skirts, aren't you?'

'Gordon, don't be ridiculous,' Anna said, completely disgusted by him. If she ever forgot why their relationship came to an end, he would certainly let her know in an instant; all he had to do was to open his mouth and say a few words. How on Earth did she ever think she could have been happy with him?

'I'm only joking!' Gordon exclaimed, wrapping one arm around the priest's shoulder and pulling him toward the High Striker. In an effort to avoid a scene Father relented and went with him. 'Come on. I'll go first. Step aside gents.'

The young man shooed off those waiting in line, and gestured for the others to give him space. 'I don't want to hit anyone. Not with this hammer, anyway.' He winked cheekily at the ladies. Gordon had gained quite a reputation as a ladies man.

But his fame wasn't enough to come close to ringing the bell.

'The bloody thing's broken.' In fury, the young man kicked the metal tower. 'I want my money back!'

'It's not broken, sir, but you gotta have enough strength and a good blow to make it rise.' The man in charge of the High Striker said almost apologetically.

'Are you saying I don't?!'

'Calm down, Gordon. ' Father John scolded him again, this time without holding himself back. 'It's not this gentleman's fault you weren't able to ring the bell, and kicking the machine won't make you look stronger.'

Gordon grimaced at the priest; a growl had not been far from his lips.

'Why don't you try it, Father?' Sister Josephine - who had been around to see the spectacle, together with Ivy and Mrs Patmore - suggested.

'For free, Father, please,' the owner of the game offered. 'It ain't broken.'

'All right, but only one try,' Father gave in to Gordon's delight. The young man couldn't wait to see the priest fail as he had before. Oh yes, he couldn't wait.

'What on-!' His wait would be in vain, because as soon as the priest hit the wooden hammer the High Striker lifted up, all the way up, to ring the bell at the top. There was applause, cheers and congratulating words. Not even Anna had been able to mask the proud smile on her face. She reached for John at once and squeezed his shoulder. No one would think a thing of it. They all wanted to pat Father John on the back.

'I wasn't expecting that,' Father said quite shyly, running his fingers through his hair. Inside he was glad he had done it, only to see the sick look on Gordon's face. God would forgive him for that, he was sure.

'It's not broken as you can see,' Mrs Patmore was fast to say, cocking her brow at the her delivery man.

'It was when I hit it.' Gordon tried to excuse himself, grabbing the hammer from the owner's hands, his eyes threatening. 'Let me try again. For free!'

'I'm afraid you're not strong enough, lad,' the cook insisted, shooing everyone away. 'Now let's go! The pie contest will be starting in only a few minutes.'

'Bloody thing…' Gordon cursed as everyone walked off. The hammer in his hands that he wouldn't dare try using again. 'Bloody old cook, bloody boring people...bloody Father John!'

 **xxx**

'Oh Lord. Oh Lordy, Lord,' the cook walked down to where the contest would be held, right beside the old bandstand, where now tables had been placed for the judges to sit and taste every pie. She held the pie high above her head, being careful for it not to be knocked down by a running child or a clumsy adult. Behind the others followed.

'I can carry it for you, Mrs P,' Father John offered.

'Oh no...if I let it fall to the ground it'll be my own fault, now if you do I'd probably kill you twice over.'

Everyone chuckled at that. 'Don't be so nervous, Mrs P,' he consoled her. 'I'm sure your pie will win.'

'Could you have a word with the Almighty?' the cook begged. 'Tell him to help out one of his most devoted children? Oh, of course, you can't, don't mind me. The Lord is busy with more important things.'

'Mrs P, they are asking for the contestants now,' Ivy called out. It was almost time.

'Well, at least wish me luck!' Mrs Patmore exclaimed, turning around to face her adoring crowd.

'Good luck, Mrs P,' they all said, cheering on her and clapping; it would seem she had already won.

'And if I were in charge,' Father John added with a kind smile, kissing her red cheek, 'I would give you the prize.'

'Oh, I know you would. You're a good lad.' Everyone laughed at Father being called a lad. After that, the cook walked to her post, and her pie was placed with the others. If looks counted for anything, Mrs Patmore's would win by far.

'Mrs P really deserves to win,' Anna sighed, recognising some of the other bakers. Mrs Clarke from the bakery, Miss Frank from the bookshop, Ellen Grant the soprano from the village church choir, even some gentlemen were participating.

'She does, indeed! Her apple and cinnamon pie is my favourite.' From behind them, the newly arrived priest spoke, having already known the wonders of Mrs Patmore's cooking.

'Father William!' John turned around, happy to see the young cleric joining them again. 'Having fun with the children? I hope they aren't tiring you too much.'

'Not at all, Father John,' the young priest smiled politely. 'They're delightful. I understand now why you are so fond of the Blessed Virgin and these people. It does feel like one big, happy family.'

'Oh yes, you're absolutely right, Father,' Anna agreed.

'I'm sure you wouldn't ever want to work anywhere else, Miss Smith.' Father William turned to her. 'You seem so comfortable with the children. And they respect you a great deal. And the friendship with Father John, the staff, the sisters...'

'Only if I didn't have any other choice,' the teacher replied, her eyes on John. 'Sometimes life takes us to where we least expect.'

'That's true,' Father William nodded. 'But don't you feel at home at the Blessed Virgin? I know you've grown in this village.'

'I do, but then, home is where the heart is, isn't that what they say?'

'And where's your heart, Miss Smith?'

The young priest's question took both Anna and John by surprise, and it was only after a long minute of choosing her words well that she answered.

'My heart? At the moment it's here.' She smiled at the man she shared her plans and dreams with. 'In a year...it could be somewhere else.'

'You're adventurous then?' Father William laughed, finding the young teacher a rather interesting character. 'Want to see the world, huh? Nothing wrong with that.'

'I just want to be happy, Father.'

'Fair enough. That's all that matters in the end.'

'Look, they are starting now!' Father John interrupted the two, and he could swear she saw a look of relief on Anna's face. 'Good luck, Mrs P.'

 **x**

The pies were all lined up, big slices missing from was a buzz of excitement in the air as the crowd waited. The jury was apparently unsure, and Mrs Patmore's heart was about to burst from her chest.

'She deserves to win,' Anna whispered to the others. 'We all know her pie is the best tasting pie in the world.'

'That and the looks of it,' Jane added. 'I would give her the prize just by the look of it.'

Ivy agreed. 'If Mrs Clark wins just because she owns the bakery shop...it'll be so unfair.'

'That's what's been happening for years now,' Anna said. 'And yes, it is unfair. I even doubt she's the one who bakes it.'

'Now, don't be petty,' John teased, elbowing the teacher gently in the ribs, before making sure no one would see it. 'If she owns the bakery and is participating, of course, she's the one doing the baking.'

Anna eyed the priest daringly. 'If you must know she has a helper who bakes and cooks most of what she sells.'

'Because she spends the afternoons at Mr Pollock's house…' Jane remarked. 'Baking in his oven instead.'

'Jane!' Sister Rose scolded the young woman. 'Don't say those things! Bearing false witness is a sin.'

'It's not false witness. Everyone in the village knows. Have you seen her son? He's the spitting image of Mr Pollock.'

'Jane!'

'All right, I'll stop. You'll have to hear to my confession soon, Father.'

'If it's not false witness…'

Sister Rose shot Father John a look, and the priest immediately cleared his throat.

'Of course...it's a sin to gossip, Jane.'

'Yeah. I shouldn't, but everyone loves to hear it.' She looked directly Sister Rose then. 'Everyone.' The nun couldn't help but shrug her shoulders and smile.

'And the winner of this year's Pie Contest is…'

Everyone waited for the name of the winner to be announced. High expectations silenced the crowd of people again. Even the Orphanage children had stopped to watch and root for their favourite cook.

'Mrs Beryl Patmore from the Blessed Virgin Orphanage!'

'Yay!'

Everyone cheered. The children began to clap and shout the cook's name.

'Whooohooo! Mrs P!'

'Well done!'

'You deserve it!'

'Mrs P's the best cook in the whole wide world!'

'Mrs P! Mrs P! Mrs P!

'So, did you end up praying for Mrs Patmore, Father?' Anna asked, turning to face him with a cheeky grin.

'Maybe, just a little,' the priest winked.

 **xxx**

The day was coming to an end, as the autumn sun began to set in a clear and fast approaching star-studded sky. Most of the adults were worn out by now, sitting on benches, enjoying a warm drink, watching the children still playing as if energy was never short for them. Orphans and village sons and daughters ran around together, forgetting for a moment their differences, and not even the chilly end of the day would stop them from enjoying the final hours of the Festival.

'I wish this day would never end,' Jane sighed, downing the last of her warm cider. 'I had so much fun!'

'Made new friends too,' Sister Josephine teased, as she sat next to the two teachers and the priests.

'I did! Henry and Arnold. Did you know Henry is Gordon's first cousin once removed? I didn't know that.'

'Yeah, I did,' Anna nodded. 'And you'll do yourself well to steer wide of him.'

'Really? Unfortunately, he doesn't have the looks of his cousin,' Jane pouted. 'Oh well, nothing's perfect.'

'I see you are a sociable creature, Miss Moorsum,' Father William chuckled.

'Oh, I am. And you can call me Jane. No need to use titles among friends.'

The two priests shared a look and a smile. Jane Moorsum was indeed a character.

'And speaking of friends…' Jane continued. 'I see Ivy is giving poor Alf a chance.'

They all looked ahead, spotting the two shy lovebirds walking together; Alf had just presented Ivy with her last candy floss of the day.

'He's not poor Alf, Jane,' Anna said. 'And we all know Ivy is soft for him, even though she tries to deny it every time.'

'Well, maybe he's not poor, but he has something missing…' Jane tapped her forehead with her index finger. 'Like balance and proper speech. He's too shy and too clumsy. Never seen anyone like him.'

Father John nodded. 'He lacks confidence in himself. He always thinks he won't be able to do it, that he will fail and that makes him extra nervous.'

'And I'm sure having his sweetheart around doesn't help his nerves either,' Father William added.

'You're right, Father. It doesn't. I think he's almost too good,' Anna said. 'You know, too sweet, too helpful and then, people take advantage of him.'

'And Mr Rivers shouts a little too much,' Jane remarked.

'I asked him to be more patient with Alf,' Father John spoke. 'I think he's doing a little better because of that.'

'Oh look. Young love,' Jane pointed out as she saw Alf cleaning some candy floss off Ivy's cheek. 'If Sister Madeleine sees that she'll make them pray all night.'

'Don't worry, Jane.I won't let her be too tough on them,' Father John assured her with a grin.

'I'm so glad you're here to save us from her wrath.' Jane cocked her eyebrow to make her point.

Anna couldn't help but agree, chancing a look and a smile at the priest. He answered her back, his eyes filled with light. She couldn't wait to be alone with him again soon.

'Oh! What's happening here?' Father William's voice broke their spell, and they all looked to where he was pointing; a boy could be seen running in their direction, shouting, 'Father! Father! Come and see. The Sisters took over the carousel!'

 **x**

When they reached the scene - a crowd had gathered - they saw Sister Mary Rose, Sister Mary Anne and Sister Mary Louise riding the colourful horses, reaching their arms out to catch the brass ring. Their faces the epitome of bliss, and everyone clapped and cheered them on. Everyone, that is, except Sister Madeleine.

'I can't believe this!' Sister Madeleine was watching as her fellow sisters went 'round and 'round, shaking her stick at them every time they passed by. It could be said she was not a happy camper.

'Oh my! Look at them go!' Jane clapped her hands together excited with what she was seeing.

'Why aren't you up there, Sister?' Father John asked Sister Madeleine. 'I'm sure they could find you a safe horse to ride.'

'Are you mad? They shouldn't even be thinking about riding a carousel, let alone actually doing it!'

'Come on, Sister. They're only having fun.' Anna tried to appeal at Sister's heart, but that wouldn't do. Instead, she earned a unamused glare back, which Father John noticed at once.

'Life can't be just praying and dressing for Sunday mass,' he reasoned, eyeing the teacher in support. Again, it wouldn't do.

'You are definitely out of your mind, but then I've known that all along,' Sister Madeleine insisted. 'They are not five years old, and they have children to watch over!'

'The children are all controlled, Sister,' Father John told her. 'And age is but a number.'

Sister Madeleine just shook her head at his words before walking away from the scene, muttering under her breath, 'I give up!'

As for the others, they stayed there watching the revolving nuns. The perfect way to end a perfect day.

They had piled back on the bus shortly after that. Dinner was bread, butter, cheese and hot chocolate because truth be told, after so much candy floss, popcorn and apple pie, no one was very hungry, just tired. Bedtime came, without the usual complaints, just yawns and a sense of relief.

As for Anna and John, that relief had come not for the same reason as the others. Their relief was because they were finally alone, even if just for a few moments. When everyone had retreated to their rooms, they met in the library - outside having turned too chilly for their rendezvous.

'It's a good place,' Anna told him as she walked along the big shelf of children's books. 'No one comes here during the night. The kitchen sometimes, but not here.'

'I would invite you to come to my office but, it's also my bedroom, and that's not very proper...not for this kind of encounter,' he said, standing next to the piano and watching as she attentively read the titles of every book.

'And what kind of encounter is this?' she asked, facing him.

He smiled, thinking of a good answer to give. 'Those between a man and a woman wanting so much to be together, and not being able to be so.'

'You would never do anything that could compromise us….' she murmured as he walked to her. 'Would you, John?'

'It's a dangerous situation, Anna…' John sighed, his eyes on her - admiring, adoring. 'Reason wouldn't but...what about the need, the need for togetherness,' he whispered, holding her hand with his, entwining their fingers together. 'The raw instinct that grows without warning. Sometimes, things can't be controlled. It's stronger than we'd like it do be.'

'You're speaking of lust,' she concluded, walking away from him - their hands losing contact. She was teasing, and he knew it.

'Yes. You know I am,' he confessed, following her as she moved to the window; slowly, seducingly, causing a slow-burning fire to ignite in his belly. It was torture, a sweet, painful torture. 'It's a feeling like no other. It's primal and powerful. Do you know lust, Anna?'

'I never have, until now. It's uncontrollable, stronger than anything else, but it ebbs and flows, doesn't it? It never lasts for long,' she said, her breath hitching in her throat when she turned to look back at him. Lust was a powerful emotion indeed.

'Now, that's where love plays its part.' He moved to stand behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder, pushing her hair aside to lay her neck bare to him. 'A deep, abiding love.'

'We must be careful, John, as enticing as it is.'

'And that's why I didn't invite you to my office…' John continued, daring to place a kiss on her neck. Soft, slow and warm. 'Lust would make us do things that would put our love, our plans at risk.' His voice had become sultry and seductive as he nuzzled his nose behind her ear, nearly causing her knees to buckle.

'You are becoming very bold, John.'

John heard her giggled and he took it as a provocation. _What was she trying to do?_ He held her close then and turned her around to face him. Without thought, he pinned her against the window glass.

'That's because you make me feel...things, I'm ashamed to admit,' he said, breathing heavily. Control was so hard at a moment like this. 'My thoughts of you are driving me mad, Anna. I can't sleep, and when I do I...this wait is making me despair.'

'Oh my darling, I feel it too,' she told him. 'Did you think I didn't?'

Her scent surrounded him, the warmth of her body travelled to his own. He could wait no more. Anna's lips were begging to be kissed, her eyes told him so, the way she melted into his embrace. Leaning down he captured her mouth with his own. A kiss like no other. Not innocent, not tentative and not at all shy. Heated, wet, intense. It left them in need of air, of balance, of each other even more.

'I'll be sad when we have to leave this place, but at the same time, I can't wait for it. I can't wait to be with you. Truly with you,' Anna managed to say a few moments after they broke apart.

His hold on her softened; he brushed her hair gently behind her ear and smiled. 'Yes. We've been happy here, haven't we?' he agreed, but he wanted so much more than that. 'It's a shame we'll have to leave. But I know I'll be happy wherever you are. All I need is you by my side.'

'Soon it'll be Christmas and after that, time goes by so quickly.' Anna reached up, brushing her hand through his dark hair.

'I sure hope so,' he said. 'And I'll enjoy every minute of being here, knowing that the rest of my life will be even better.'

'We should go to bed now,' she suggested, straightening her dress and taking a deep breath. 'It's late.'

'Yes, we should. Although, I would rather stay here with you, holding you, kissing you...'

'Dream of me instead and save it all for when our time comes.'

'And you?' He held her hand one last time, fiddling with her fingers to mask some shyness of the next question. How could it be that shyness and boldness walked as one when she was around him? 'Will you dream of me, Anna?'

'I dream of you every night, John,' she told him in a whisper, and before he could say another word she stretched up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips. It was quick, much too quick, but the perfect prelude to a dream.

 **x**

Under the sheets in the privacy of her room, Anna shivered, but the cold was not the reason behind it; he was. His hands, his slow touch, the feel of his strong, naked body moving against hers. His hot lips tasting every inch of her. An experience she had only just read about or heard about. It was new, everything. Emotions, sensations, and the powerful need of completion - stronger than anything she had ever felt before.

In her dream, she called out for him. She demanded more than just a touch, and when she awoke, she could still feel his mouth on her body. His scent surrounded her, blending with her own. It had left her breathless and spent.

 **x**

In his own room, John was roused from a restless sleep; his body drenched in sweat. His fevered dreams had matched her own.

* * *

 **Thank you all for reading :)**


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